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The Bride’s Fate. 


Sequel to “The Changed Brides.” 

B . 

n ^ _ 


BY MRS. EMMA D.®' E." N.'^" SOUTH WORTH. 

AUTHOR OF SELF-RAISED," ISHMAEL," HOW HE WON HER," NOBLE LOl 


FAIR PLAY," "the MISSING BRIDE," "A BEAUTIFUL FIEND," " RETRIBUTION," " VIVL 
<<^TTT, "the lady OF THE ISLE," " CRUEL AS THE GRAVE,' 


THE CHANGED BRIDES," " 

"the widow's SON," "allworth abbey," “the LOST HEIRESS," "INDIA," 
*‘THE gipsy’s prophecy," “ THE ARTIST'S LOVE," " THE THREE BEAUTIES," 
"victor's triumph," "the curse of CLIFTON," "FALLEN PRIDE," 
'*THH FATAL SECRET," "THE SPECTRE LOVER," " MAIDEN WIDOW," 

"the TWO SISTERS," " FATAL MARRIAGE," "THE BRIDAL EVE," 

^ " THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD," " THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS," 

TRIED FOR HER LIFE," " DISCARDED DAUGHTER," ETC. 







4JJ(' 




"The Bride's Fate" is one of Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth's greatest and strongest 
novels. It is a mine of startling incidents and possesses absorbing interest, every page display- 
ing Mrs, Southworth's rare genius and unrivalled power. The plot is grandly contrived, its 
main theme being the restoration to Drusilla, the heroine, of her husband, Alexander Lyon, 
through the instrumentality of her baby son, one of the most delightful children ever depicted 
in fiction. Anna Lyon, Dick Hammond, General Lyon, and, in fact, all the old characters, 
reappear, while many new personages give diversity to the fascinating narrative. The scene is 
laid chiefly in London and its immediate vicinity, and both high and low life are graphically 
described. Fashion and the aristocracy are seen at the grand ball at the American Embassy. 
The Derby is depicted in a style of realism, and there is a highly dramatic duel, as well as a 
startling abduction. "The Bride's Fate" should be read by all who admire Mrs. South- 
worth's powerful works, which are now sold everywhere and should be found in every public 
and private library, for they are certainly the most delightful and popular of all modern novels. 


r' . t ^ ^ 

li 

H Jtj e . 




PHILADELPHIA ; 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHlRo^; 
306 CHESTNUT STREET. 




copykight: — 1885. 


T. B. BBTBBSOIT &s BBOTHEB/S. 


L ^ 


MRS. E. D. E. K SOUTHWORTH’S COMPLETE WORKS 

EACH WORK IS COMPLETE IN ONE LARGE DUODECIMO VOLUME. 


SELF-RAISED; or, FROM THE DEPTHS. Sequel to Ishmael, 
JSHMAEL; or, IN THE DEPTHS. {Being Self-Made.) 
THE MOTHER-IN-LA W; or, MARRIED IN HASTE. 
THE PHANTOM WEDDING ; or, Fall of House of Flint. 
THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 

A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; or, THROUGH THE FIRE. 
VICTORS S TRIUMPH. A Sequel to Beautiful Fiend.^* 
THE FATAL MARRIAGE; or, Orville Deville. 

\FAIR PLAY; or, BRITOMARTE, the MAN HATER. 

HOW HE WON HER. A Sequel to Fair Play.^' 

THE CHANGED BRIDES; or. Winning Her Way. 

THE BRIDE' S FATE. Sequel to ^^The Changed Brides." 
CRUEL the GRAVE; or, Hallow- Eve Mystery. 

TRIED FOR HER LIFE. A Sequel to Cruel as the Grave." 
THE CHRISTMAS GUEST; or. The Crime and the Curse. 
THE LADY OF THE ISLE; or. The Island Princess. 
THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or. The Brothers. 

A NOBLE LORD. Sequel to The Lost Heir of Linlithgow." 
THE FAMILY DOOM; or, the SIN OF A COUNTESS. 
THE MA IDEN WID 0 W. Sequel to ‘ ‘ The Family Doom." 
THE GIPSY’S PROPHECY; or. The Bride of an Evening. 
THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea, the Bridal Day. 

IHE THREE BEAUTIES ; or, Shannondale. 

ALL WORTH ABBEY; or, Eudora. 

FALLEN PRIDE; or, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL'S LOVE. 
INDIA; or, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. 

VIVIA; or, THE SECRET OF POWER. 

THE WIDOW’S SON; or. Left Alone. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; or. The Children of the Isle. 
BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. Sequel to "The Widow’s Son." 
THE BRIDAL EVE; or. Rose Elmer. 

THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS; or, Hickory Hall. 
THE DESERTED WIFE. HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. 

THE L OS T HEIRESS. THE SPE C TR E LO VER. 

THE WIFE’S VICTOR Y. THE FA TA L SE CRE T. 
THE CURSE OF CLIFTON. THE TWO SISTERS. 
THE ARTIST’S LOVE. LOVE’S LABOR WON. 

MYSTER Y OF DARK HOLLO W. RE TIUBUTION. 

Above Books are Bound in Morocco Cloth. Price $1.50 Each. 


1^“ ... oouihworth’s works are for sale by all Booksellers, or copies 
of any one, or more of them, will be sent to any one, postage prepaid, or 
free of freight, on remitting the price of the ones wanted, to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON ^ BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa, 


CONTENTS 


I.— UNCHANGING LOVE 23 

II. — CALM DELIGHTS 30 

III. — SURPRISES 37 

IV. — A MESSENGER 40 

V. — FORTUNE 57 

VI. — ENTERTAINING ANGELS 63 

VII. — HALCYON DAYS 76 

VIII. — THE END OF PROBATION 86 

IX. — A MAY-DAY MARRIAGE 94 

X. — GENERAL LYON’S CONSOLATION 110 

XI. — A JOYOUS MEETING IN JUNE 119 

XII. — THE MAIL-BAG 130 

XIII. — OLD AND NEW 136 

XIV. — ARRIVAL 147 

XV. — THE DERBY 172 

XVI. — THE GIPSIES 189 

XVII. — HOW THE PARTED MET 202 

XVIII. — WAITING AND HOPING ' 219 

XIX. — MEETING EVERY DAY 231 

XX. — THE ambassadress’ BALL 240 

XXI. — Alexander’s experience 259 

XXII.— THE missing BOY 282 

XXIII. — ALEXANDER’S JEALOUSY 307 

XXIV. — THE DUEL 316 

XXV.— THE GRAND -SATISFACTION 330 


(V) 


CONTENTS 


22 

Chapter Pag* 

XXVI. — THE PTJKSIJIT 336 

XXVII. — THE SHOCK 353 

XXVIII. — ALEXANDER STRIKES A LIGHT 376 

XXIX. — Alexander’s discoveries 386 

XXX. — LITTLE Lenny’s enemy 395 

XXXI. — THE ABDUCTION 413 

XXXII.— LITTLE Lenny’s adventures 431 

XXXIII. — LENNY’S EXPERIENCES 448 

XXXIV. — THE PEACE-OFFERING 454 

xxxv. — THE PEACE OFFERING. — Continued . 468 


THE BRIDE’S RATE. 


CHAPTER 1. 

UNCHANGING LOVE. 

•‘Kind friends may be to thee, 

But love like hers thou ’It see. 

Never again.” 

Rest, pea-^e, love, comfort were now Drusilla’s portions. 

It was a new experience to the poor, discarded, and de- 
posed young wife to find herself the central object of inter- 
est in a family like General Lyon’s, her health and happi- 
ness watched over and provided for with the most affection- 
ate solicitude. 

She had not a care in the world. She scarcely had a 
regret. She knew the worst. She knew that her last act 
had banished Alexander from her side. But when she 
looked upon her boy’s face, and reflected that no stigma now 
rested upon his baby brow, she could not regret her act. 
With the child-like simplicity of her character, she ac- 
cepted the situation.” 

In the sunshine of this sweet old home, her heart ex- 
panded to all kindly sympathies. 

She — the orphan girl, who had never been blessed by a 
father’s tender care, deeply responded to the affection be- 
stowed on her by old General Lyon, and really doted on the 
fine veteran. At his desire she called him uncle ; but she 


24 


THE BRIDE'S FATE 


loved him as a father. She would watch and listen for his 
footsteps, in his daily visit to her sick room ; and she would 
kiss and fondle his aged hands, and then lift up lier boy to 
receive his blessing. 

And often on these occasions the veteran’s eyes filled 
with tears, as he glanced from the childish mother to the 
child, and murmured : 

“ Poor children ! poor children ! while I live you shall be 
my children.” 

Anna w’as not less kind than her grandfather to Drusilla. 

And she, the only daughter, who had never before known 
a sister’s companionship, loved Miss Lyon with a sister’s 
love, and delighted in her cheerful societ}'. 

She felt friendly towards Dick, and was very fond of the 
attentive old servants. Indeed, her loving, sunny spirit 
went out on all around her. 

But her greatest joy was in her child. She would soothe 
him to sleep with the softest, sweetest notes, and after lay- 
ing him in his cradle, she would kneel and gaze on his 
sleeping face for hours. 

Mammy protested against this idolatry; but Drusilla 
answered her : 

** It is not idolatry, nurse ; because I do not place the 
gift before the Giver. There is not an instant in my life 
that I am not conscious of fervent gratitude to the Lord 
for giving me this child, a gift forever and ever ; a gift for 
time and eternity; oh, nurse, a gift, of which nothing on 
earth or in Heaven can deprive me ! ” 

Don’t say that, ma’am ; the Lord m'ght take the 
child,” said mammy, solemnly. 

^‘I know that, niijse. The Lord might take him to 
Heaven, to save from the evil in this world ; but he 
would be safe there, for the Lord would take care of him 
for me, and give him back to me when I myself should 
reach the Blessed Land,” she answered, reverently. 


TTNCHANGING LOVE. 


25 


And mammy had nothing more to say. 

How closely the young mother watched the tiny growth 
of her child, and the faint development of his intelligence. 
She could see progress where no one else could perceive the 
slightest sign of it. She discovered that “he” “took 
notice,” long before any one could he brought to acknowl- 
edge that such a prodigy was possible. Her delight when 
her boy first smiled in his sleep, or when she fancied he 
did, was something almost ludicrous. She was kneeling by 
his cradle, watching his slumbers as usual, when she sud- 
denly cried out, though in a hushed voice : 

“ Oh, Anna ! Cousin Anna !• look ! look ! he. is laughing I 
he is indeed ! See how he is laughing ! ” 

Miss Lyon came and bent over the cradle. So did mam- 
my, who drew back again, saying : 

“ Lor ! why that ain’t no laugh, ma’am ; that’s wind — 
leastways, it is a grimace caused by wind on the stomach, 
and I must give him some catnip when he wakes.” 

Now, if Drusilla’s sweet face had been capable of express- 
ing withering contempt mammy would have been shrivelled 
up to a mummy ; but as it was she could only appeal from 
the nurse to Miss Lyon. 

“ Anna, look at him — he is laughing, or, at the very least, 
smiling — is he not ? ” 

“ Yes, my darling, he is certainly smiling ; and you know 
the old folks say w'hen an infant smiles in its sleep it dreams 
of Heaven and sees angels.” 

“ And I do believe that is true — it must be true ! Arid 
my little cherub sees his guardian angels!” exclaimed 
Hrusilla, delightedly. ^ 

“I tell you, ma’am,” began mamm}^, “it is nothing but 
jest win — Owtchl” she exclaimed, sitddenly breaking off 
as Anna trod heavily upon her corns. 

And presently mammy limped off to make' the threatened 
catnip tea, leaving the two young \vomen to th^ enjoyment 
of their faith in the -^ileeping baby’s Heavenly visions. 


26 thebride’sfate. 

For the first few weeks infants’ eyes are of no particular 
form, color or expression, but merely little liquid orbs folded 
up in fat. But very soon Drusilla made very great discov- 
eries in her infant’s eyes. Sitting alone one morning, and 
gazing down upon the babe that lay smiling on her lap, she 
murmured : 

Oh, Alick, Alick, dear, you have torn yourself away 
from me, and have gone. But you could not deprive me of 
your eyes, my Alick ! They look up at me from my baby’s 
face, and while they do so I can never cease to love you and 
pray for you, Alick, my Alick ! ” 

Since his desertion this was the only occasion upon which 
she had ever breathed his name, and even now it was only 
in half audible murmurs as she talked to herself, or to her 
babe. 

By the other members of the family, Alexander’s name 
was never m'entioned. General Lyon had given no orders 
to this effect, but the subject was tacitly dropped by all as 
one unspeakably painful and humiliating. 

General Lyon, who loved the delicate, dove-eyed little 
woman with a fatherly fondness, would not let her confine 
herself to her own apartments a day longer than was neces- 
sary. He first of all wiled her down to the afternoon tea, 
and then after a few days, coaxed her down to dinner ; and 
on the Sunday following sent for her to join the family circle 
at breakfast. 

The family circle ” at this time comprised only Gen- 
eral Lyon, Anna, Dick, and Drusilla. 

Dick had remained at old Lyon Hall ever since Alexan- 
der’s exodus, with the exception of one day when he rode 
over to Hammondville, where he had left the parson and the 
lawyer to tell them that their services would not be required, 
and to remunerate and dismiss them. 

Since that day Dick had made a clean breast of it to his 
uncU, and had won a conditional consent to his marriage 


UNCHANGING LOVE. 27 

with Anna ; the engagement being encumbered with a pro- 
hation of one year. 

I shall be an old maid yet if I live long enough,” said 
Anna, laughing when she heard from Dick of this decision, 

My marriage day has been fixed and my marriage inter- 
rupted three times ! and at every interruption it has been 
deferred for one year, only to be interrupted again at the 
end of it.” 

I don’t complain of all other interruptions, hut, Anna, 
let us make sure of a marriage this time by going off by 
ourselves and getting it done,” said Anna’s lover. 

Dor shame, Dick,” was all the answer she vouchsafed 
him. 

We are of age,” urged her suitor. 

So much the worse, sir, for we should know better,” said 
Anna. 

And Dick ceased to push the question. 

It drew near the Christmas holidays, and the weather 
was very fine for the season. 

General Lyon invited and pressed his adopted niece to 
take drives in the picturesque vicinity of the hall. 

But Drusilla answered that she wished her first going out 
should be to the house of God, in acknowledgment of his 
great mercy in preserving her and her child amid so many 
dangers, and raising up to them such dear friends. 

And the conscientious old soldier could urge the matter 
no farther. 

One Friday morning Anna and Drusilla were seated 
together as usual — the baby sleeping in the cradle between 
them — when Anna said : 

Drusilla, my dear, you are going to church next Sun* 
day?” 

“ Yes, I am ; Providence permitting, Anna.” 

Do you kno\\ it will be Christening Sunday ? ” 

* Ko, I didn^t, ^nna.” 


28 


THE bride’s fate. 


** Well, it will be. Now wouldn’t you like to have youf 
boy christened ? ” 

Oh, yes ; indeed I should, bless him ! ” 

‘^And I will be his godmother, and grandpa and Dick 
shall he his godfathers. You know, being a hoy, he will 
require two godfathers and one godmother. If he were a 
girl, the matter would he reversed. Now what do you say, 
my dear ? ” 

‘‘ I thank you very much, dear Anna, for your kindness 
in thinking of all this. And I shall be very grateful to you 
and dear uncle and cousin Dick for becoming sponsors for 
my darling boy,” said Drusilla, earnestly. 

“ And the christening is to go on ? ” 

Certainly, dear Anna, if you please.” 

What name will you give your child ? ” 

** If dear uncle would permit me, I should like to name 
xny boy for him — ‘ Leonard.’ ” 

And not Alick ? ” inquired Anna. 

It was the first time for weeks past that she had uttered 
his name ; and she did it now in a sort of triumph in the 
thought that his discarded wife had ceased to care for him. 

“And not Alick?” she repeated, seeing that Drusilla 
hesitated to answer. 

“No, not Alick,” the young mother now replied, calmly 
and gravely. 

“That is right; I am glad of it! Very glad of it!”* 
exclaimed Anna, with such righteous indignation and exul- 
tation combined that the young wife looked at her in sur- 
prise and sorrow. 

“ I think you mistake me, dear cousin,” she said. “ The 
only reason why I do not call my child after his father is 
this : — I have already one Alick, hut one Alick and I can 
never have another. I cannot even hear ^hat my child 
should have his name. I want hut one Alick in the whole 
world. 


UNCHANGING LOVE. 29 

" Goodness knows, I think one of that sort would be 
quite enough ! ” exclaimed Anna. 

Drusilla looked at her in gentle reproach. 

^^Is it possible, child, that you still love that scamp?” 
scornfully demanded Miss Lyon. 

Oh, Anna dear, yes ! He used to love me too ; he was 
very kind to me, from the days when I was a poor little 
sickly, ignorant girl, till within a short time ago. Oh, 
Anna, shall the madness of a few months make me forget 
all the loving kindness of many long years? Never, Alick, 
dear, never,” she murmured, dropping her voice as in solil- 
oquy ; “ I will still love you and pray for you and trust in 
you — for I know Alick, dear — when you come to yourself 
you will come to me. I can wait for that time.” 

Anna gazed on the inspired young face in amazement 
that gradually gave way to reverence, and even to awe. 

Drusilla,” she said, solemnly, “ I retract all I ever said 
against Alexander, and I promise never to open my lips to 
his prejudice again.” 

Drusilla looked up gratefully hut — inquiringly. 

Your eyes thank me hut you wish to know why I say 
this. I will tell you : It is because you make me begin to 
believe in that man. Your faith in him affects me. There 
must he some great reserve of good somewhere latent and 
undeveloped in his nature, to have drawn forth such a faith 
as yours. But were he the greatest sinner that ever dark- 
ened tho earth, such love as yours would make him sacred.” 


80 


THE bride’s fate. 


CHAPTEE 11. 

CALM DELIGHTS. 

Now has descended a serener hour, 

And with reviving fortunes. — Shelley. 

The next morning Anna entered Drusilla’s room, fol 
lowed by Matty, bearing a large work-basket filled with 
cambric W'bite as snow, and lace as fine as cobweb. 

Set it down here at my feet, Matty, and go/’ said Miss 
Lyon, sinking into one of the arm-chairs. 

Opposite to her sat Drusilla, and between them, of course, 
lay the sleeping babe in the cradle. 

Here, my dear,” said Anna, calling the young mother’s 
attention to the contents of the basket, have overhauled 
all my bureaus and boxes in search of these materials ; for 
you know if our baby is to be christened on Sunday next 
he must have a fine robe, and you and I must set to work 
immediately to make it.” 

Oh, thanks, dear Anna, for your constant thougthful- 
ness of me and my babe. I have some very beautifully 
embroidered robes at Cedar Wood, but nurse did not think 
it necessary to bring them, and I have none here but very 
plain white slips,” said Drusilla, gratefully. 

Well, now get your scissors ready, for I know nothing 
about cutting out a baby’s robe, so you will have to do that 
part of the work, but I will seam and tuck and gather and 
trim with anybody,” said Anna, beginning to unrol the 
snowy cambric. 

And Drusilla’s nimble fingers soon shaped out the little 
dress, and the two young women set to work on it with as 
much delight as ever two little girls took in dressing a 
doll. 

When they had settled the style of the trimming to 


CALM DELIGHTS. 


81 


tbeir mutual satisfaction, and had then worked in silence 
for some time, Drusilla looked up and said : 

wonder if dear General Lyon will like to have me 
name my poor discarded little haby after him ? 

‘^Of course he will. It wdll he a compliment paid to 
him — though a well-merited one to him,’^ replied Anna. 

“No, dear, it will not he a compliment paid to him, hut 
a favor asked by me, and my heart misgives me that possi- 
bly he may not like it.” 

“ Foolish little heart, to have such misgivings ! Why 
don’t you set the doubt at rest by asking him and finding 
out what he will answer ? ” 

“ No, no, Anna, I cannot do that, because he is so kind 
that he would be sure to give me a prompt and cheerful 
consent, no matter how much secret reluctance he might 
have to the measure.” 

“ Then if you never propose the matter to him, I don’t 
Bee how you will accomplish your purpose.” 

“ By your means, dear Anna, I hope to do so.” 

“ How by my means, you absurd little thing ? ” 

I want you to find out in some other delicate way than 
by direct questioning whether my wish would be agreeable 
to General Lyon.” 

“ I will try j but I warn you, 1 am a very bad diplo- 
mat.” 

Whether Miss Lyon was really a bad diplomat or not, 
she did not seem to think it at all necessary to sound the 
General on the subject in the manner Drusilla desired ; but 
as she sat with her grandfather in the drawing-room that 
night, she suddenly said : 

“We are going to have our baby christened next 
day, grandpa, and his mother wants to name him after 
you.” 

“ Doos she, indeed, the dear child ? I had not expected 
Buch a thing,” exclaimed the old man. 


32 


THE bride’s fate. 


That is, if you have no objection, sir.” 

“ Objection ! why I am delighted ! ” 

I am glad you like the plan.” 

Like it ? why I have never in my life been moio 
pleased or more surprised ! I shall make Master Leonard 
Lyon, a very handsome christening present ! ” 

‘‘ That’s a darling grandpa ! But listen. Don’t say a 
word to Drusilla about the present, beforehand. She is no 
more mercenary for her child than she is for herself, and 
she is the most sensitive person I ever met with in my 
life.” 

“ All right, Anna ! I shall say nothing of the present. 
But you, my little house-keeper, you must see that a proper 
christening feast is prepared to do honor to our boy.” 

You may safely leave that to me, sir.” 

The next morning was cold, dark and stormy. 

Drusilla was forbidden by her nurse to go down stairs, 
and so she had her breakfast up in her own room. 

When the service was cleared away, and she was seated 
before the fire, with the babe in her arms, General Lyon 
entered the room. 

She arose with a countenance beaming with welcome, 
and was about to lay her babe down, that she might set a 
chair for her visitor, when he pleasantly signed to her to 
resume her seat, and he brought one to the fire for himself. 

“ Anna tells me, my dear, that you design me the honor 
of naming your fine boy after me,” he said, seating him- 
self. 

If you will please to permit me to do so, sir, the honor 
will be mine, and will make me happy,” said Drusilla^ 
blushing deeply. 

My child, I cannot express how much I thank you ; 
how gratified and pleased I feel.” 

Drusilla looked down, quite overpowered by the fervency 
of these acknowledgments, on the part of the old hero. 


CALM DELIGHTS. 


33 


You must know, my dear,’^ lie continued, I have 
alwa3^s secretly longed for another Leonard Lj^on to repre- 
sent me, when I shall be gone ; but scarcely* had a hope to 
see one during my life. Leonard Lyon is a very ancient 
family name with us, and has been kept up in every gener- 
ation, except the last. It failed there, because I had never 
been blessed with a son ; and my brother had but one, and 
he was named after the family of his mother, who was a 
Miss Alexander. Thus, you see, the ancient name, Leon- 
ard Lyon, would have become extinct in me, had you not 
determined to revive and perpetuate it in your son. 
Heaven bless you for the kind thought, my dear, for it has 
made me very happy,” said the old gentleman, earnestly. 

I fervently thank Heaven, sir, for giving me the power 
of pleasing you in this matter,” murmured the blushing 
young mother, in a low and tremulous voice. 

“ And this I will sa}'’, my child, that the name your boy 
will bear, has never, in the thousand j’^ears of its existence, 
been sullied by' a shadow of dishonor.” 

I know it has been borne by heroes and sages, and by 
none others. I hope and pray that ni}^ boy will prove 
worthy of his noble ancestry,” fervently breathed Hrusilla. 

“ That, I feel sure, he will ! If Heaven should grant me 
a few more y^ears of life, I shall take great delight in 
watching the growth of little Leonard Ly'on,” replied the 
old gentleman, as he arose, and kissed the mother and the 
babe, and left the room. 

The following Sunday proved to be a very fine day^ At 
an early^ hour, the capacious family carriage of General 
Lyon was at the door, well warmed and aired for the re- 
ception of the delicate mother and the tender infant. 

Not even on her first bridal day, had Hrusilla looked so 
lovely as she did now, when she came down stairs, dressed 
for church, her delicate, pale beauty, still more tenderly 
2 


84 


THE bride’s fate. 


goftened by her simple bonnet of white velvet, and wrap- 
pings of white furs. 

She was attended by mammy, dressed in her Sunday^s 
best, and carrying the baby, richly arrayed in his christen- 
ing robes. 

General Lyon, Anna, Drusilla, the nurse and the baby, 
rode in the carriage. 

Dick Hammond, on horseback, escorted them. 

The parish church was at Saulsburg, six, eight, or ten 
miles off, according to conflicting statements. So early as 
they set out, they were not likely to be much too early to 
join in the commencement of the service. 

When they reached the turnpike gate, they found old 
Andy on duty. 

Seeing Dick cantering on^in advance of the approaching 
carriage, he placed himself behind the gate, and lifted up 
both his arms, while he called aloud to his wife : 

“Jenny, w^oman ! come out wi^ ye, and tak the toll, 
whiles I stand here to keep yon daft laddie frae louping o’er 
the bar again ! ” 

In answer to the summons, Jenny appeared just in time 
to receive Mr. Hammond, who quietly drew rein before the 
door, paid for himself, and the carriage behind him, and 
then with a bow, rode on his way. 

The carriage followed ; but as it passed, Mrs. Birney got 
a glimpse of the passengers inside and after doing so, she 
dropped her chin, and lifted her eyebrows, and remained 
transfixed and staring, like one demented. 

“ Eh, w^oman ! wEat’s come o’er ye ? Are ye bewitch- 
ed ? ” questioned Mr. Birney, as he passed her, in going 
into the house. 

“ Ha, gudeman, I’m no’ bewitched ; but just amazed 
like ! Didna ye see yon bonny leddy lying back among the 
cushions ? She that was all happed about wi’ braw white 
velvets and furs ? ” 


CALM DELIGHTS. 


85 


" Aweel, and what of her ? ” 

‘^Hech, gudeman, she’s naither than the puir hit lassie 
that came ben to us the night o’ the grand storm.” 

Hout, woman ! hauld your tongue ! no’ to ken the differ 
between a horn leddy like this ane, and a young gilpey like 
yon ! ” 

“ I ken weel the differ between a leddy and a gilpey . 
And I dinna need dress to instruct me in it, either, gude- 
man. I kenned the lass was na gilpey when I saw her in 
her auld grey cloak ; and I kenned her again in the bit 
glint I had of her bonny face as she lay back in her braw 
velvets and furs, wi’ her wee bairn by her side. Eh ! but 
I’d like to hear the rights iv that ! ” 

The rights o’ what, woman ? ” 

The grand wedding pit aff again ; the fine bridegroom 
ganging aff in a jiffey; this young, bonny leddy and her 
bairn made so muckle iv the whole family. But it’s na 
gude to speer questions. The minister will na speak ; the 
doctor will na speak ; the vera serving lads and lasses will 
na speak, although on ordinary occasions they’re a’ unco 
fond o’ clackin their clavers. But we shall hear, gude 
man ! we shall hear ! Secrets like yon canna he kept, e’en 
gif they he stappit up in a bottle.” 

Gudewife, ye’ll do weel to gie your attention to your 
ain proper business and no meddle wi’ that whilk dinna 
concern you. The auld general pit us here to keep the 
,gate, and no to speer questions into his preevate affairs. 
And though the situation is na sick a gude^ ane, it might 
be waur. Sae we’ll behoove to gie na offence wi’ med- 
dling,” said Andy, as he sat down and opened his big 
Bible to read. 

Meanwhile the Lyon family went on to church, which 
they entered just as the organ had ceased playing and the 
minister was opening his book. 

It was not until after the last lesson of the morning 
fiervice was over that the announcement v/as made : , 


86 


THE bride’s fate. 


All persons having children present for baptism will 
now bring them forward/’ 

Our whole party left their pew and proceeded to the font. 

General Lyon, as senior sponsor, took the babe in his 
arms and presented him to the minister. Dick, as junior 
sponsor stood by. 

Anna was sole godmother. 

And amid the customary prayers, promises, and benedic- 
tions, the child received the time-honored name of Leonard 
Lyon. 

On their way home, the whole party congratulated each 
other with much affection and cheerfulness. 

But withal, Dick, riding along slowly bj*^ the side of the 
carriage, was visited with some very serious reflections. He 
felt the great moral and religious responsibility of the ofiice 
he had undertaken. And thus he communed with himself : 

General Lyon is aged and cannot be expected to live 
very much longer. Anna is a woman. On me must de- 
volve the duty of looking after that boy. Good Heavens ! 
However did they come to think of making such a good for 
nothing dog as I am godfather to that innocent baby ? It 
is enough to make my hair stand on end to think of it. 
The fact is, I must strike a light and look about myself. I 
must, I positively must and will, thoroughly mend my 
ways and reform my life ! not only for Anna’s sake — who 
knows me already, and takes me for better for worse with 
her eyes wide open — but for this innocent babe’s sake, upon 
whom, without his knowledge or consent, they have thrust 
me for a godfather ! No more gambling, no more drinking, 
no more carousing with scamps, and squandering of money, 
Dick, my boy I Eemember that you are godfather to 
Master Leonard Lyon, and responsible for his moral and 
religious education. And you must be equal to the occa- 
sion and true to the trust.” 

So profound were Dick’s cogitations that he found nim- 
lelf at Old Lyon Hall before he was consorious of the fact. 


SURPRISE. 3T 

He sprang from his horse in time to assist tie old gen- 
tleman and the young ladies to alight. 

And they all entered the house, where Drusilla was 
greeted by a pleasant surprise. 


CHAPTEE III. 

SURPRISES. 

Were her eyes open ? Yes, and her month, too ; 

Surprise has this effect to make one dumb. 

Yet leave the gate which eloquence slips through 
As wide as if a long speech were to come, — Byboit 

The family party first separated to go to their several 
chambers to lay aside their outside wrappings and to pre- 
pare for their early Sunday dinner. 

Then they met in the drawing-room. 

Drusilla, who had more to do than the others, wa#» the 
latest to join them. 

Her baby, that had slept soundly during the long ride 
from church, was now awake and required attention. 

While she was engaged in her sweet maternal duties, 
she received a message from General Lyon requesting that 
his godson might be brought down into the drawing-room 
before dinner. 

So as soon as the young mother had made herself and 
her child presentable, she went down stairs, followed by the 
nurse carrying the babe. 

On the threshold of the room she paused in pleased sur- 
prise, and not so much at the value of the presents display- 
ed before her, as at the new instance of kindness on the 
part of her friends. 

On a round table covered with a fine crimson cloth 
were laid the christening offerings, of great splendor fop. 
their kind. 


88 


THE bride’s fate. 


There was a richly chased silver casket filled with gold 
coins from General Lyon. There was a baby’s silver gilt 
service — consisting of waiter, pap howl, water jug, and 
drinking mug, cream pot, sugar basin, sugar tongs and 
spoons — from Dick. And there was a coral and bells of 
the finest coral, purest gold, and most superb workmanship, 
from Anna. 

“ Dear uncle ! dear Anna and Dick, how kind, oh, how 
kind, you all are to me and my boy ! I can not tell you 
how much I feel your kindness. I am very grateful ; and I 
hope, oh, I hope, my dear little Leonard will live to thank 
you ! ” fervently exclaimed Drusilla, pressing the hand of 
her aged benefactor to her heart, and lifting her eyes full 
of loving gratitude to her young friends, who stood side by 
side enjoying her delight. 

My dear, it gives us as much pleasure to offer you these 
little tokens of our affection as it can possibly give you to 
receive them,” answered .General Lyon, drawing her 
towards him and touching her forehead with his lips. 

It does indeed, sweet cousin,” added Dick. 

And Anna, for her answer, silently kissed the young 
mother. 

And now to dinner, which has been announced for 
twenty minutes,” smiled the old gentleman, drawing 
Drusilla’s arm within his own and leading the way to the 
dining-room, where a feast of unusual elegance was laid in 
honor of the occasion. 

The day closed in serene enjoyment. 

When Drusilla retired to her room that evening, she 
found that the christening presents had been transferred 
from the round table in the drawing-room to an elegant 
little cabinet that had been purchased to receive them, and 
placed in the nursery. 

Before she went to bed she knelt down and thanked 
Heaven for the mercies that now blessed her life. 


SURP RISES. 


89 


As her head rested on her pillow, with the face of the 
sleeping babe near her, softly seen by the subdued light of 
the shaded lamp, she wondered at the peace that had 
descended upon her troubled spirit and made her calmly 
happy. 

Had she then ceased to love her faithless husband ? 

Ah, no ! for pure love like hers is of immortal life and 
can not die. But she had ceased to sorrow for him, for sor- 
row is of mortal birth and cannot live forever. 

. She felt safe under the fatherly care of the fine old head 
of the family, cheerful in the company of her affectionate 
young friends Dick and Anna, and happy — oh, deeply, un- 
utterably happy ! — in the possession of her beautiful boy. 
She felt no trouble. 

** Baby fingers, waxen touches pressed it from the mother’s breast.” 

She never heard from Alick ; but then, as she did not 
expect to hear from him, she was not disappointed. 

She never heard from Cedarwood either ; but then as she 
had left directions with the servants only to have letters 
written to her in case of necessity, she felt that, in this 
instance, no news is good news.” 

Mammy was growing rather restive and desirous of re- 
turning to her home, but Drusilla besought her to remain a 
little longer at Old Lyon Hall. 

‘^Wait,” she said, until the next spell of fine weather, 
when baby will be able to travel, and I too will return to 
Cedarwood. I must not stay away from the home provided 
for me by my husband, nor yet tax the hospitality of my 
dear friends longer.” 

Mammy looked puzzled, for though the faithful old 
household-servants had carefully forborne to speak of un- 
pleasant family affairs in the presence of the nurse, whom 
they looked upon as a stranger and an alien, still she had 
heard enough to give her the impression that young Mr. 


40 


THE bride’s fate. 


Lyon had aoandoned his wife. Therefore Mammy wa« 
rather bewildered by this talk of returning to Cedarwood. 

I do not think as the General and the young people 
will consent to part with you, ma’am ; and indeed I think 
it will a’most break all their hearts to lose little Master 
Leonard,” said the nurse. 

I know they will not like it, because they are so kind 
to us — so very kind, and therefore I have shrunk from 
mentioning it to them ; but my duty is clear — I must go to 
my own home and I must advise them of my purpose with- ^ 
out*^delay.” 

Well, ma’am, certingly, if they wants your company 
ever so, they ain’t got no power to keep you ag’in’ your will ; 
and so, ma’am, if you is set to go home first fine spell arter 
Christmas, I reckon as I can wait and see you safe 
through,” said the nurse, graciously. 

Thank you ; it will be a great favor,” replied Drusilla. 

The time was drawing near to the Christmas holidays — 
a season always hitherto observed by the Lyons with great 
festivity — when they had been unbounded in their hospital- 
ity and munificent in their presents. 

On this occasion, some five or six days before Christmas, 
General Lyon sent Dick to Kichmond, armed with a hand- 
ful of blank checks signed and left to be filled up at pleasure, 
and commissioned to purchase the most elegant and appro- 
priate holiday gifts that he could find, for every member of 
the family and every household servant j but above all, to 
get a handsome perambulator, a crib bedstead, and — a hobby 
horse for Master Leonard. 

“ Good gracious me, grandpa ! ” had been Anna’s excla- 
mation on hearing of this last item, “ what on earth do you 
think a baby of a few weeks old can do with a hobby 
horse ? ” 

I don’t know, my dear, but I wish to give it to him.” 

** He won’t be able to sit on it for three years to come.” 


SURPRISE 


41 


And I may not live to see that time, my dear, and as I 
wish to give it to him I must do so now. It can he kept 
for him, you know. And now, while we are on the subject, 
I wish to ask you to have one of the many rooms in this 
house fitted up as a play-room for him. Let it be as near 
the nursery as possible j and whatever childish treasures I 
may purchase may be put there and kept until he is old 
enough to enjoy them.” 

This conversation had taken place in the presence of 
Lrusilla ; but as no part of it had been addressed to her, 
she only expressed her gratitude for the intended kindness 
by glancing thankfully from one speaker to the other. 

But she felt more strongly than ever that, however 
reluctant she might be to announce her intended departure 
from such kind friends, it was incumbent upon her to do so 
before they should make any material change in theii 
household arrangements for her sake. 

So after a little hesitation she commenced : 

“Dear friends, while ever I live in this world I shall 
remember your goodness to me, and with my last breath I 
shall pray Heaven to bless you for it. But ” 

“We have pleased ourselves in this, my dear; so say 
nothing more about it,” smiled the old gentleman, laying 
his hand kindly on her head. 

“ Thanks — a thousand thanks, dear sir; but I feel that I 
must soon leave you ” 

“ Leave us ! ” echoed General Lyon, Anna and Dick all 
in a breath. 

“ It is time for me to return to my home,” she said, 
gently. 

“ Your home, Drusilla ! ” said General Lyon, in a grave 
and tender voice. “ Poor child, where will you find so 
proper a home as this, where your relations with us give 
vou the right to stay, and where our affection for you makes 
you more than welcome ? ” 


42 


THE bride’s fate. 


Nowhere, indeed, sir, but in the house provided for me, 
by — my husband,^’ answered Drusilla, breathing the last 
tw^o words in a scarcely audible tone. 

Ah ! he has come to his senses ; he has written and 
entreated you to join him. For the sake of my faith in 
human nature I am glad that he has done so/’ said the 
General. 

Oh, no, he has not yet written to me,” smiled Drusilla. 

But you have heaad from him ? ” 

“ No, not since that night.” 

Then what do you mean, my dear, by talking of the 
home he has provided for you ? ” 

I mean the cottage to which he took me when we were 
first married — Cedarwood, near Washington.” 

Where you suffered such cruel mental anguish as I 
should think would render the very thought of the place 
hateful to you, my poor child,” said General Lyon, compas- 
sionately. 

Drusilla gave him a pleading look that seemed to pray 
him to say nothing that might even by implication reproach 
her absent husband ; and then she added : 

There were other memories and associations connected 
with Cedarwmod, dear sir. The first few weeks of my mar- 
ried life were very happy ; and my housekeeping and gar- 
dening very cheerful and pleasant.” 

But all that is changed. Why go back there now ? ” 

Because it is my proper home.” 

Yet — he — that man has not invited you to return ? ” 

No, but then I left of my own accord, and now that I 
am able to travel, it is my duty to go back, though unin- 
vited. I must not wait to be asked to return to my post,” 
paid the young wife. 

The General was silent and thoughtful for a few moments, 
and then he said, firmly : 

My child, you must think no more of this.” 


SURPRISES. 


43 


She looked at him ; hut hesitated to oppose him, and 
^phen she did answer she spoke gravely and gently : 

Dear sir, it is riffht for me to go.” 

Drusilla, think no more of this, I say,” he repeated, 
and this time with an air of assured authority. 

" Dear uncle, why do you say so ? ” 

I might answer, it would be too painful to me to part 
with you and your boy.” 

^‘Thanks for saying that, sir. I too, feel that to leave 
this safe, sweet old home, and these loving friends, will be 
very painful j duty often is so ; but not for that must we 
fail in it.” 

“Drusilla! I repeat that you must not think of taking 
this step ! Not only has your unworthy ” 

She looked at him so deprecatingly, that Jie broke off his 
speech and began anew. 

“ Well, well, I will not wound you if I can help it, my 
dear ! — I say, not only has your husband not invited you 
to return to your home, but he has positively you 
to do so. Do you remember, poor child, the terms he used 
in discarding you ? ” 

“ Words spoken in the ^ short madness ’ of anger. I do 
not wish to remember them, dear General Lyon,” she 
sweetly answered. 

“ My child I do you know where to write to him ? ” 

“ Oh no, sir.” 

“Do you think that he will write to you? or do you 
hope that he will join you at Cedarwood ? ” 

“ Oh, no, dear uncle 1 at least, not for a long time. But 
I hope that he will feel some interest in his child, and he- 
will inquire about it, and when he finds out what a beauti- 
ful boy it is, he* will come to see it ; and then, then — for 
the boy’s sake he will forgive the mother.” 

“ Forgive ! Heaven of Heavens, girl ! what has he to 
forgive in you ? ” indignantly demanded Anna. 

“ That which a man seldom pardons — although it was 


44 THE bride’s fate. 

done from love to him and his child,” answered Dmsilla, 
in a low voice. 

“ Then you really have a hope that he will rejoin you at 
Cedarwood ? ” inquired General Lyon. 

At Some future day, sir, yes.” 

And in the meanwhile you live alone there ? ” 

“ No, sir, not quite j but with my boy and servants.” 

And how do you propose to support the little establish- 
ment, my dear ? Come, I wish to know your ideas ; though 
I dare say, poor child, you have never thought of the sub- 
ject.” 

“Oh yes, dear sir, I have. In the first place, I have 
nearly fifteen hundred dollars in money, left at home ; that 
will keep us in moderate comfort for two years, especially 
as I have abundance of everything else on the premises — 
furniture, clothing and provisions, in the house ; and a 
kitchen garden, an orchard, poultry yard and dairy, on the 
place. So, at the very worst, I could keep a market farm,” 
smiled Drusilla. 

“But in the meanwhile live alone, or with only your 
infant babe and your servants ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Then I tell you, Drusilla, that you must not, shall not 
do so,” repeated the General, with emphasis. 

“ Oh, sir, why would you hinder me ? ” she pleaded, lift- 
ing her imploring eyes to his face. 

“For your salvation, dear child,” he answered, very 
gently. 

“ But how for my salvation, dear uncle ? ” 

“ Drusilla, you cannot know, only heaven can know, how 
difficult, how impossible it is for a young forsaken wife to 
live alone and escape scandal.” 

“ But, dear sir, if I do right, and trust in the Lord, I 
have nothing to fear.” 

“Poor child ! I must answer you in the words of another 


SURPRISES. 


45 


old bore, as meddlesome as perhaps you think me. ^Be 
thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape 
calumny.’ ” 

But, sir, in addition to all that, I mean to be very dis- 
creet, to live very quietly with my little household, and to 
Bee no company whatever, except you and Anna, if you 
should honor me with a visit, and to make no visits except 
here.” 

But you must go to church sometimes ; and when your 
babe is ailing, you must see a doctor ; also it will be neces- 
sary occasionally to have your chimneys swept j and the 
tax-gatherer will make you an annual visit.” 

Of course, dear sir,” she smiled. 

And yet you hope to preserve your good name ? — Ah ! 
my dear child, no forsaken wife, living alone can do so, 
much less one so very young and inexperienced as yourself. 
If the venomous ‘ fangs of malice ’ can find no other hold 
upon you, they will assail you through — the Christian 
minister who brings you religious consolation for your 
sorrows ; the family physician who attends you in your ill- 
ness, to save your life ; to the legal adviser who manages 
your business; the tax-gatherer, the chimney-sweep, or 
anybody or everybody whom church, state, or need should 
call into your house.” 

Ah, sir ! that is very severe ! I hope it is not as you 
think. I believe better of the world than that,” said 
Drusilla. 

When the world has stung you nearly to death or to 
madness, my dear, you may judge more truly and less 
tenderly of it. And now, Drusilla, hear me. You do not 
go to Cedarwood ; you do not leave our protection until 
your husband claims you of us. Let the subject drop here 
at once, and forever.” 

Drusilla bowed her head in silence ; but she was not the 
less resolved at heart to return to Cedarwood, and risk all 


46 THE bride’s fate. 

dangers, in the hope that her husband might some day 
join her there. 

But Destiny had decided Drusilla’s course in another 
direction. 

The event that prevented her return to Cedarwood shall 
be related in the next chapter. 


CHAPTEK IV. 

A MESSENGER. 

The boy alighted at the gate, 

But scarce upheld his fainting weight; 

His swarthy visage spake distress, 

But this might be from weariness. — B yboit. 

In the' sunshine of affection and happiness Drusilla grew 
beautiful and blooming. She loved her truant Alexander 
as faithfully as ever, but she loved him in hope and trust, 
and not in fear and sorrow. She felt that he was old 
enough, big enough and strong enough to take care of him- 
self, even when out of her sight, while here upon her lap lay 
a lovely babe, a gift of the Heavenly Father to her, a soft 
little creature whose helplessness solicited her tenderness, 
whose innocence deserved it, and whose love will certainly 
return it. 

Her baby gave her love for love, and the very faintnevSS 
and feebleness of its little signs of love, made these sweet 
infant efforts all the more touching and pathetic. How 
could she trouble herself about ‘Alexander and his doings 
while her little boy lay smiling in her e3'e^? 

Bab}^ lips will laugh him down.’’ 

“Yes, my darling bo}'^,” she murmured, gazing fondly' on 
bis face, “you. will always love me, and when j’ou grow up 
to be a man jmu will love me all the more, because I shall 


A MESSENGER. 


47 


be old and feeble.” And her thoughts involuntarily 
reverted to the bearded man who had rejoiced in her health 
and beauty, but turned coldly away from her when she was 
sick and pale, and most needed his love and care. 

Anna, who was sitting with her, laughed merrily. 

Drusilla looked up, with just a shadow of annoyance on 
her fair face. And Anna answered the look : 

“ My dear, I laughed at what you said.” 

“Well, but I spoke truth. I know my darling will 
always love me, and when he grows up to a tall, strong 
man, and I shall be an old and infirm woman, he will love 
me more tenderly than before, because I am old and in- 
firm,” persisted the fond mother, stooping her lips to'her 
boy’s brow. 

Anna laughed louder than ever. 

“ Why, Drusilla,” she said, “ you are but sixteen years 
old. When your son is grown up, say at twenty, you will 
be but thirty-six, in the very maturity of a healthy woman’s 
strength and beauty. Your son will be your dearest friend 
and companion ; if you have lost somewhat of the wife’s 
happiness, you will have an unusual share of the mother’s 
joy. You are still so young, such a mere child jmurself, 
that you may take your little son by the hand with the 
prospect of going nearly the whole journey of life together. 
You will be his playfellow in his childish sports ; his fellow- 
student in his boyish studies, and his comrade in his youth- 
ful travels. You will go on in life and grow old together — 
or almost together.” 

“ Oh, so we will. I did not think of it before. I was 
thinking that the mother of a grown son must he quite an 
aged lady. Alick’s mother was quite aged and infirm,” 

“Yes, because she was forty-four years old when Alick 
was born, which makes some difference, you know,” laughed 
Anna. 

There was silence a little while, and then Anna said ; 


48 


THE bride’s fate. 


You will have much jo}’’ in 3’'0ur som if the Lord should 
spare him to you, Drusilla/’ 

The Lord will spare him to me. I feel convinced of 
it/’ answered the young mother reverently. 

‘^And every year — nay, every month — j’-our joy will 
increase ; for as his affections and intelligence develop, he 
will grow more and more interesting and attractive to jmu.” 

It seems to me that he could scarcelj’- ever be more in- 
teresting and attractive than he is now. Look at him, 
Anna. See how beautiful are his mute, faint efforts to 
express the love he feels, but does not understand. ‘ Touch 
is the love sense.’ He knows that, at least ; and see how 
his dittle hands tremble up towards mine and then drop ; 
and see the smile dawning in his eyes, and fluttering around 
his lips, as if uncertain of itself.^ Will you tell me, at 
what time of a child’s existence it is sweeter and lovelier 
than now in its first budding into life ? ” 

Before Anna could answer the question, the door was 
opened by mammy, who chirpingl^" announced : 

Here is Leo, from Cedarwood, ma’am, bringing letters 
for you.” 

And she closed the door, leaving Leo standing before his 
astonished mistress. 

“ It is my footman from my old home, dear Anna,” ex- 
plained Drusilla. 

Then, turning to the messenger, she held out her hand 
and said : 

How do you do, Leo ? You have letters for me ? ” 

Leo slowly took a packet from his pocket, handed them 
over to his mistress, and then, lifting both his hands to his 
eyes, burst out crying and roared as only a negro boy with 
his feelings hurt can do. 

‘^Why, what is the matter ?”' anxiously inquired Dru- 
silla, pausing in the examination of her letters, in her pity 
for the distress of the boy— What is the matter, my poor 
Leo?” 


A M E.S S E N G E R . 


49 


** Oh, mum, it is to see-hee,” sobbed Leo, “ to see-hee 
you so well -hell, and hap-pappy, and to know as I am bring 
— hing bad news again ! Seems like I was born — horn to 
be the death of you, ma’am,” said the boy, scarcely able to 
articulate through his sobs. 

“ I hope not, Leo. Sit down and compose yourself. ‘ I 
trust your master is well.” 

“ Oh yes, mum, he is well enough ( wish to Goodness 
Gracious he wasn^t!) but he’s done, tored up everything 
and — Boo ! hoo ! ooo ! ” cried Leo, gushing out into such a 
cataract of tears and sobs that he was forced to bury his 
face in his big bandana and sink into a seat. 

Compose yourself, Leo, and I will read my letters. 
They will explain, I suppose,” said Drusilla, opening the 
packet. 

There were three letters from her lawyer, which she laid 
aside ; and there was one from her husband, which she 
opened and read. It ran thus 

“ Cedarwood, Dec. 22d, 18 — . 

Madam : — Had j^ou chosen to remain quietly in the 
home I provided for you it should have been yours for life, 
with a sufficient income to keep it up. But as 3mu volun- 
tarily left it, jrou have forfeited your right to return to it, 
as well as jmur claims upon me for support. The place is 
now dismantled and sold. The messenger who takes this 
letter has charge of all your personal effects, and will 
deliver them over to ^mu. Alexander Lyon.” 

We know the time, not so long since, when the young 
wife would have screamed, cried or swooned at the reception 
of such a letter from her husband. 

Now, she simpl^’^ bent forward and laid it on the fire, and 
when it blazed up and sank to ashes, she said : 

It is gone ; and now it shall be forgotten.” 

3 


60 


THE bride’s fate. 


And then she stooped and kissed her babe. 

Leo, stealing an anxious glance at her, misunderstood 
the movement and started forward, exclaiming : 

Oh, mum ! don’t go for to faint ; please don’t.” 

Drusilla looked at him and smiled kindly, saying : 

I am not likely to do so, my boy. I am strong and 
healthy now, thank Heaven ! and besides, there is nothing 
to faint about. I am only a little sorrj’’ that the cottage is 
sold.” 

“ Oh, mum ! don’t ! I shall cry again if you do ! Oh, 
mum, you used to say as how you would make that wilder- 
ness to bloom and blossom as the rose ; and so you did, 
mum, lovely ! But oh, mum ! he have turned the beauti- 
ful place into a howling wilderness again ! ” bawled the 
hoy. 

Never mind, Leo, I will get it hack again some day, 
and restore all its beauty,” said Drusilla, smiling. And 
now, my boy, where is your sister ? ” 

She have gone back to Alexandria, mum ; but sends 
her love and service to you, mum.” 

“And the poor pets — the little birds, and the cat and 
kittens, Leo ? ” 

“ Pina has got them all to take care on for you, ma’am, 
till you sends for ’em and for her, cause she considers of 
herself into your service, ma’am, which likewise so do I.” 

“ And the cow and calf, and the horses, Leo ? ” 

“ They was sold to the people as bought the place, 
ma’am.” 

“ I hope they will he kindly treated.” 

“I hope they will, ma’am ; for they did miss you, as well 
as me and Pina did ; and they showed it in every way as 
dumb creeturs could.” 

“ And where did you leave my effects, Leo ? ” 

“ I brought as many trunks as 1 could on the stage with 
me, n^a’am ; and the rest of the boxes is coming down by 


A MEodENGER. 


51 


wagons. Pina was very careful in packing everything, 
ma’am ; and here is the money you gave me to keep,” said 
Leo, taking a sealed packet from his breast pocket, and 
handing it to his mistress. 

“ Thanks, my boy ; you and your sister have been very 
faithful, and I shall certainly retain you both in my service, 
and at an increase of wages.” 

Oh, ma’am, neither me, nor yet Pina is mussenary. 
We’ll be glad to come back to you on any terms.” 

‘‘And now, Leo, look here! Here is my baby boy I 
when the spring comes he will be big enough for you to 
take him on your shoulder and ride him about ! Won’t 
you and he have a good time ? ” 

“ Oh, ma’am, what a purty little creetur ! But he’s very 
little, aint he, ma’am?” said Leo, looking shyly at the 
baby, which indeed he had been furtively contemplating 
ever since he had been in the room. 

“Why, no, Leo; for his age, he is very large, very! 
Who is he like, Leo ? Look and tell me.” 

Leo dutifully looked, and saw well enough who the boy 
really was like ; but he answered stoutly : 

“ He is like you, ma’am, and nobody else.” 

“ Oh, look again, Leo 1 His eyes are open now. H'ow 
who is he like ? ” 

“ He is the image of you, ma’am, and not another mortial 
in the wide world,” repeated Leo, defiantly. 

“ How can you say that, you stupid boy ? Is he not 
like his father ? ” 

“ Ho, mum ! not the leastest little bit in life ! He is 
like nobody but you,” persisted the lad, doggedly. 

“ Leo, you are a mole I You have no eyes I How go 
down to your mother, and tell her to make you comforta- 
ble.” 

“ Thank you, ma’am. I am so glad to see you so well, 
ma’am, with such a purty little boy, and I am so thankful 


62 


THE bride’s fate. 


as you don’t take on about thinks like you used to do,” 
replied the lad. 

I am so much better and stronger now, Leo. But go 
and give my message to your mother.” 

Leo bowed and left the room. 

So Alick has sold Cedarwood,” said Anna. 

« Yes.” 

‘‘ What a wretch ! ” 

Fleasey Anna ” 

“ I can’t comprehend your tenderness for that man, 
Brasilia ! but, there ! I will not wound it if I can help it. 

I am glad he has sold Cedarwood, however. It settles the 
question of your future- residence. You must stay with us 
now.” 

As Anna spoke. General Lyon entered the room, and 
came with his pleasant smile and sat down beside his 
protegee. 

She turned to him, and, laying her hand in his, said : 

My fate is decided for me, dear sir. I have no home 
but this, and no protector but you.” 

“ darling, I am very glad.” 

Yet, in saying this, the General looked from his adopted 
niece to his grand-daughter, as if for an explanation. 

Seeing Brusilla hesitate, Anna answered for her. 

‘‘Yes, sir, that vill — I mean Mr. Alexander Lyon — has 
sold Cedarwood.” 

The General now looked from his grand-daughter back 
to his niece as if demanding confirmation of the news. 

“Yes,” admitted Brusilla, casting down her ej'es — in 
regret for him, not in sorrow for herself; “he has sold 
Cedarwood, but then, you know, dear sir, tluft I had left 
the house.” 

A flush of shame crimsoned the cheek, a frown of anger 
darkened the brow, of the veteran soldier. 

“ And that man calls himself a Lyon and my nephew ! I 


A MESSENGER. 


58 


»m glad now that they never called him Leonard ! There 
never was a rascally Leonard Lyon yet ! And 1 am very 
glad, my dear, that you did not name our noble boy here 
Alexander ! The infern 

Drusilla raised her hand with an imploring and depreca- 
ting gesture. 

^^Well, well, my dear, I will try not to offend again. It 
is true that an old soldier has a right to swear at his degen- 
erate nephew; hut not in the presence of ladies, I confess. 
So let the scound — I mean Alick — go. Yes, let him go, 
and joy go with him, especially as, setting the baseness of 
the act aside, I am really very glad he has sold Cedarwood, 
for it settles the question of your residence with us, my 
dear.’’ 

And I am glad to stay here,” answered Drusilla, with 
a smile. “ It is true that I thought it my duty to go back 
to Cedarwood, and await there the pleasure of my husband ; 
and I should have risked everything and gone there, if he 
had not sold the place. And I know I should have had to 
wait long months or years for his return ; and I should have 
been very lonely and dreary, and should have missed you 
and dear Anna and Dick very much. No, upon the whole, 
I cannot say that I am sorry to be relieved of the duty of 
going back to Cedarwood to live alone,” said Drusilla, 
frankly. 

‘‘ That’s my girl ! Sorry ? no, I should think you would 
not be. What should you want with Cedarwood, trumpery 
toy cottage, with its little belt of copse-wood, when you 
have Old Lyon Hall and its magnificent surroundings of 
forests and mountains ? — to say nothing of having me and 
Anna and Dick ! ” exclaim ed the old man, holding out his 
hand to his favorite. 

She took it and pressed it to her lips, and then answered: 

<< Yet I loved the pretty little wildwood home ; and some 
day I will buy it back again, even if I have to pay twice 
ox thrice its value.” 


64 


THE bride’s fate. 


General Lyon looked up, surprised to hear the discarded 
wife and dependent woman talk so bravely of buying 
estates at fancy prices, even as Anna had looked at having 
heard her speak so freely of retaining her old servants at 
double wages. Yet both were pleased, for they said to them- 
selves — ‘^This proves that she has the fullest confidence 
in us, and knows that we will never let her feel a want, 
even a fantastic or extravagant want, unsupplied.’^ And 
the general answered : 

That is right, my dear girl. So you shall buy it back — 
to-morrow, if you like ! or as soon after as we can bring 
the present proprietor to terms. Mr. Alexander shall 
learn that some things can be done as well as others. But 
Drusilla, my darling, although we may purchase the place 
and restore it, I do not mean to consent that you shall ever 
return there to live alone ; remember that.” 

I do not mean to do so, sir. I will never leave you 
until my husband calls me back to him,” said Drusilla, 
giving him her hand. 

That is right ! that is sensible ! Now, since you are 
fond of that little bird-cage, I will set about buying it for 
you directly. You shall have it for a New Year’s gift ; and 
then if you must see the place sometimes, why we can all 
go and live there instead of at a hotel, when we go to 
Washington for the season.” 

Oh, how kind, how good you are to me,” breathed 
Drusilla, in a soft and low tone, with deep emotion ; ‘‘but 
dear sir, do not think that I thank, or love, or bless you any 
the less, when I say that I do not wish this as a gift from 
your munificient hands. Dear uncle, I am well able to 
afford myself the pleasure of possessing my ‘ toy cottage.’ ” 
“ Ah ! he has provided handsomely for you, after all ! 
Come ! his villainy is a shade less black — 1 beg your par- 
don, my child ! I won’t again ! indeed I won’t ! — I mean 
his — transaction is a shade lighter than I supposed it. 


A M ESSEN GEE. 


65 


Well, I am glad, for his sake, that he has provided for you. 
But, Drusilla, my child, I would not take his money ! hav- 
ing denied you his love and protection, I would take noth- 
ing else from him.” 

“ Dear uncle, although I do not need anthing from my 
Alick except his love, yet, should he offer anj^thing, I would 
gratefully accept it, hoping that his love would follow. But 
you are mistaken — he has made no provision for me.” 

“ What did you mean then, my dear, by refusing Cedar- 
wood as my gift and saying that you were able to purchase 
it yourself? ” 

I have a large fortune in my own right, dear sir.” 

A fortune in your own right ! ” echoed Anna, in aston- 
ishment. 

‘^You never mentioned this circumstance before, my 
dear,” said the general, in surprise and incredulity. 

“ Indeed, I had utterly forgotten it until my servant 
arrived with these letters from my solicitors. It was very 
stupid of me to forget it ; but, dear sir, only think how 
many more important matters there were to drive it out of 
my head,” replied Drusilla, deprecatingly. 

“ For my part, I do. not think that anything can be more 
important to you, in present circumstances than the inher- 
itance, of a large fortune. It is an inheritance, I suppose ? ” 

Oh yes, sir, — from my grand-uncle, a merchant of San 
Francisco.” 

And how large is the fortune ? ” 

“ I do not know, sir — some millions, I think. Here are 
the lawyer’s letters. I have not looked at them yet,” said 
Drusilla, putting the ^Mocuments” in the hands of her old 
friend. 

Astounding indifference ! ” he murmured to himself as 
he put on his spectacles and opened the letters. 

Drusilla and Anna watched him attentively. 

Why, my dear child, you are a billionaire 1 You are 


66 


THE bride’s fate. 


probably the wealthiest woman in America ! ” exclaimed 
the General, in astonishment. “ That is, if there is no 
mistake ! ” he added. “ Are you sure you are the right 
heiress ? ” taking off his spectacles and gazing at Drusilla. 

“ I am qnite sure, sir. There are too few of us to afford 
room for confusion. In my grand-uncle’s generation, there 
were hut two of the family left — himself and his only 
brother, my grandfather. My grand-uncle, being a woman- 
hater, lived and died a bachelor. My grandfather married? 
and had one only child — my father ; who, in his turn, also 
married, and had one only child — myself. You see how 
plain and simple is the line of descent ? ” 

“ I see,” said the General, reflectively ; hut, my dear, 
it is not sufficient for a set of facts to be true in themselves, 
the}’- must be capable of being proved to the satisfaction of 
a court of law. Can all these births, marriages, and deaths 
be proved, Drusilla ? ” 

“ Oh, yes sir ; there are so few of them — they have 
occurred within so short a time, comparatively speaking.” 

“ In what manner, my dear ? Kemember, Drusilla, that 
what might convince you or me of a fact might not have 
the same effect upon a court.” 

All that I have said, dear sir, can be established to the 
satisfaction of the most scrupulous court that ever existed, 
by church registers and court records, family Bibles, tomb- 
stones, papers, letters, and personal friends.” 

“ I am glad to hear it. And you know where all these 
proofs can be found ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. Many of them, Bibles, letters, documents, 
and so forth, are in my possession. All the others are to be 
found in Baltimore.” 

“ Where a large portion of your inheritance lies, and 
where your lawyers live ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Yes j well, my dear, if all this is as you suppose it to 


rORTUN E. 


57 


be — and I have no doubt that it is so — your way to fortune 
is clear enough ! Let me congratulate you, my dear, on 
being, perhaps, the richest woman in America ! ” said the 
General, shaking her hands warmly. 

Anna also heartily added her own congratulations. 

“And now, my child,’^ said the General, kindly, “let us 
attend to this business at once. Your lawyers are naturally 
displeased and suspicious at your long delay. As you are 
not very much of a business woman, jmu will let me take 
these letters to my study and answer them for you.’^ 

“ Oh, if you would be so kind, dear sir, I should be so 
happy.’^ 


CHAPTER V. 

FORTUNE. 

Fortune is merry. 

And In this mood ■will give us anything.— Shakespeaeb. 

So General Lyon answered the lawyers’ letters, and in a 
more satisfactory manner, it is to be presumed, than Dru- 
silla had ever done. His illustrious name and exalted 
position were in themselves enough to dispel any doubts 
that the mysterious reticence of the heiress might have 
raised in the minds of her solicitors. 

Having sent his letter off to the post-office, and knowing 
that several days must elapse before he could hear from the 
solicitors again, the old gentleman dismissed the matter 
from his mind, and addressed himself to the enjoyment of 
the Christmas festival now at hand. 

Dick arrived from Richmond on Christmas Eve, having 
in charge several large boxes containing the Christmas 
presents. 

Among them were the crib, the perambulator and the 


58 


THE BRID e’s FATE. 


hobby-horse, which were all deposited for the present in 
the room selected and fitted up b}’’ Anna, as the future play- 
room of little Master Leonard Lyon. 

Anna’s and Drusilla’s presents consisted of rich and 
costly furs and shawls, from the General; and splendid 
jewels and delicate laces from Dick. 

The veteran’s gifts were a pair of soft, embroidered 
velvet slippers and smoking cap, from Anna; a warm, 
quilted dressing-gown from Drusilla; and a new patent 
reading chair of unequalled ingenuity, comfort and conven- 
ience, from Dick. 

Dick’s presents were a fowling piece of the most superior 
workmanship, from his uncle ; an embroidered cigar case 
from his betrothed ; and a smoking cap from Drusilla. 

Besides these, each male and female servant in the house 
was made happy in the possession of a new and complete 
Sunday suit. 

After the distribution of the presents on Christmas 
morning the family went to church. 

At the end of the service they returned to an early din- 
ner, and spent the afternoon and evening in social enjoy- 
ment. 

As usual in the Christmas holidays. General Lyon gave 
one large party, to which he invited all his friends and 
acquaintances for thirty miles around. 

And at this. party he formally introduced Drusilla as : 

My niece, Mrs. Alexander Lyon.” 

And this he did with so much quiet dignity, as in most 
cases to repress all expression of surprise from those who 
could not fail to wonder at such an introduction. And if 
any had the temerity to utter their astonishment, they were 
courteously silenced by the answer of the stately old gen- 
tleman. 

Old people cannot and ought not to choose for young 
ones in affairs of the heart. I had hoped that my nephew 


FORTUNE. 


69 


and my grand-daughter would have married each other, for 
my sake ; but I was wrong. They have each chosen part- 
ners for their own sakes ; and they were right. Come here, 
Dick ! Sir and madam, let me present to you Mr. Richard 
Hammond as my future and well-beloved grand-son-in- 
law.” 

After that what could the gossips say or do ? Of course 
nothing but bow, courtesy and congratulate ; though some 
among them, being maliciously inclined, and envying the 
young heiress of Old Lyon Hall her beauty and her wealth, 
did shrug their shoulders and raise their eyebrows as they 
whispered together : That it was very strange Miss Lyon^s 
marriage being put oif so frequently and she herself at last 
passed so carelessly from one bridegroom to another ; and 
that it looked but too likelj’’ she would be an old maid after 
all ; for she was getting on well in years now ! 

A very false and spiteful conclusion this, as the beauti- 
ful Anna was not yet twenty^-three years old. 

Some even had the ill-luck to inquire of the General, or 
of Anna, or Dick : 

Where is Mr Alexander Lyon now ? ” 

But the quiet answer was always the same : 

“In Washington, attending to the sale of some real 
estate there.” 

And the conversation would be quickly turned. 

With the exception of tliese annoying questions, implied 
or directly asked, and which General Lyon knew must be 
sooner or later met and answered, and which he felt had 
best be settled at once, the party passed off as pleasantly 
as any of its predecessors had done. 

On this occasion at least there was no failure upon 
account of the weather. There never was a finer star-light 
winter night to invite people out. 

Hor was there any tampering with the lamps of the long 
drawing-room ; there never was seen a more brilliantly 
lighted and warnaed saloon to entiee people in. 


60 


THE bride’s fate, 


The music was inspiring ; the dancing was animated ; 
the supper excellent. The festivities were kept up all 
night. 

And did Drusilla enjoy the party ? 

Of course she did. Why not ? She could love forever, 
but she could not grieve forever. She was experiencing a 
delightful reaction from her long depression of spirits. 
She was young and beautiful, and formed to give and 
receive pleasure amid these Christmas festivities. In a rich 
white moire antique dress, delicately trimmed with black 
lace and black jet, she looked exquisitely pretty. To please 
her friends and also a little to please herself she danced — 
first with General Lyon, who led her to the head of a set 
to open the ball ; then with Dick, and afterwards with any 
others whom her uncle introduced to her. And all who 
made her acquaintancf^ were charmed with the beauty and 
sweetness of the lovely, child-like creature. 

A refreshing breakfast was served at seven o’clock ; after 
which, the guests, well pleased, took leave and departed by 
the light of the rising sun. 

Early in the new year, mammy,” well paid for her 
faithful services and loaded with tokens of her patient’s 
good-will, took leave of the family and of her fellow- 
servants and left Old Lyon Hall to return to her own home 
in Alexandria. 

She was attended by Leo, who was commissioned to bring 
down Pina and the birds, the dog, the cat and the kittens ; 
for to mammy’s perfect content, the brother and sister were 
again to enter together the service of Mrs. L3"on. 

have brought up m^r chillum respectable ; which it is 
alius my pride and ambition so to do, and likewise to 
have them engaged in service long o’ the old respectable, 
rustycratic families, which none can be more so than the 
Lyonses of Old Lyon Hall, and that to my sartain knowl- 
edge, which has heard of them ever since I was born,” said 


FORTUNE. 


61 


mammy, on parting with her gossip, Marcy. And I 
hopes, ma’am,*^ she added, “ if you sees my young people 
agoing wrong, you’ll make so free for my sake as to correct 
them ; which their missus, the young madam, is much too 
gentle-hearted for to do ; but gives them their own head 
far too much.” 

Marcy gave a promise to have an eye upon the hoy and 
girl — a promise she was but too likely to keep. 

And so mammy departed, well pleased. 

The very day she left, the wagons from Washington 
City, containing Drusilla’s personal effects from Cedarwood, 
which had been delayed by the bad condition of the roads, 
arrived at Saulsburg. 

General Lyon, being duly apprised of the circumstance 
by a messenger from the Foaming Tankard,” sent carts 
to meet them. 

But more than one day was occupied with the removal. . 

For Alexander Lyon, either from pride, compunction, or 
a faint revival of the old love, or from all these motives 
combined, had sent down not only Drusilla’s wardrobe and 
books, but every article of furniture that particularly apper- 
tained to her use. And all these were very carefully 
packed, so as to sustain no injury from the roughness of 
the roads over which they were brought. 

There was first a whole wagon load of boxes filled with 
the rich and costly wearing apparel with which he had 
overwhelmed her in the days of his devotion. 

Then there was another load composed of her mosaic 
work-table, sewing chair, and footstool; her enamelled 
writing-desk, work box and dressing-case; her favorite 
sleepy hollow of a resting chair; and other items too 
numerous to mention. 

The third load comprised her sweet-toned cottage piano, 
her harp and her guitar. 

It took two days to transoort these things from Saulsburg 


62 


THE bride’s fate. 


to Old Lyon Hall, and it took two more days to unpack 
and arrange them all in Drusilla’s apartments. 

The fond and faithful young wife contemplated these 
dear familiar objects with a strange blending of tenderness, 
regret and hope. Each item was associated with some 
sweet memory of her lost home and lost love. But even 
now she did not weep j she smiled as she whispered to her 
heart : 

“ He does not know it, hut he loves me still ; and some 
day he will come and tell me so. I can wait for that bright 
day, Alick, my Alick, when I shall place my boy in your 
arms and tell you how in the darkest hours I never ceased 
to love 3’^ou and never doubted 3'our love ! ” 

She was absorbed for a little while, and then once more 
she murmured to herself in her beautiful reverie ; 

For what w^ould love be if darkness could obscure its 
light, or wrong destroy its life ? 

Ah ! if this devoted 3'oung wife ever does succeed in win- 
ning HER WAY to the heart and conscience of'her husband, 
she will do it through the power of her love and faitli alone. 

Before the week was out Drusilla had another pleasure, 
in the arrival of Leo and Pina with her pets. 

She received them all with gladness. 

“ Oh, ma’am,’^ exclaimed Pina, but it does my very 
heart good to see ^mu looking so rosy and bright-eyed I 
And I’m just dying to see young Master Leonard ! And I 
am to be his nurse, aint I, ma’am ? And how is the dear 
little darling pet ? And, oh, I am so glad to see you look- 
ing so well and so happy ! 

I am very happy to see you also, Pina,” said Drusilla, 
when tlie girl had stopped for want of breath. “I hope 
you left jmur mammy well.” 

“ Oh, as well as possible, ma’am ; but with hahy on the 
hrain as sure as she lives, in regard to talking about little 
Master Leonard, which she stands to it is the finest baby as 


FORTUNE. 


68 


ever she saw among the hundreds and hun^'eds as she has 
had the honor of — of — of ” 

Pina paused for want of words or breath. 

“Of first introducing to their friends and relations,’’ 
added Drusilla, laughingly coming to the girl’s relief. 

“ Yes, ma’am, that is the way to put it,” said Pina, ap- 
provingly. “ But please, ma’am, may I see little Master 
Leonard?” she pleaded, eagerly. 

“ Go with Matty first, Pina. She will show you the 
room where you are to sleep, and which joins the nursery. 
Wash your face and hands, and change your travelling 
dress for a clean one, and then come to my chamber, which 
is on the other side of the nursery, and 1 will show you our 
baby.” 

“ Thank jmu, ma’am. Yes, ma’am. I am a perfect show 
for dust and dirt, I know, and in no state to go nigh a 
dainty little baby,” said Pina, curtesying, and then follow- 
ing Matty from the sitting parlor, where this interview had 
taken place. 

And thus Drusilla’s surroundings at Old Lyon Hall were 
Boon arranged to her perfect satisfaction. 


CHAPTER VI. 


ENTERTAINING ANGELS. 


Little can we tell, who share 
Our household hearth of love and care; 
Therefore with grave tenderness. 
Should we strive to love and- bless 
All who live this little life, 

Soothing sorrows, calming strife, 

Lest we wrong some seraph here, 

Who has left the starry sphere. 

Exiled from the heavens above. 

To fulfil some mortal love. — T. Powell. 


In the course of the next week, one or more from every 
family who had been invited to the Christmas party, called, 


64 THE bride’s fate. 

and all who did so, left cards also for Mrs. Alexander 
Lyon. 

Besides this, Mrs. Colonel Seymour, the nearest neigh- 
bor and most intimate friend of the Lyons, issued invita- 
tions for a large party to come off on Twelfth Night. And 
the General, Anna, Drusilla and Dick, each received one. 

What shall you wear, Drusilla ? inquired Anna, as 
the two young women sat together looking at their cards. 

Dear Anna, I do not know that I shall go,’’ answered 
Drusilla, gravel}’’. 

“ Why not ? ” 

have an instinctive feeling that I should live very 
quietly while separated from my husband — live, in fact, as 
I should have lived, if I had gone back to Cedarwood 
alone.” 

If you had gone back to Cedarwood alone, it would 
have been eminently necessary for you to have lived the 
life of a hermit, to save your reputation from utter ruin ■; 
and e\'en then you could not have saved your character 
from misconstruction and misrepresentation. But now you 
are living with us, which makes all the difference. Here 
you may freely enjoy all the social pleasures natural to 
your youth. The most malignant stabber of fair fame that 
ever lived would never dare to assail a lady who is a mem- 
ber of General Lyon’s family,” said Anna, proudly. “And 
it was to secure this freedom of action and these social 
enjoyments to you, no less than to shield you from danger, 
that my dear grandfather so firmly insisted on your remain- 
ing with us,” she added. 

“ Oh, how can I be grateful enough to him for all his 
loving kindness to me ? Oh, Anna, under Divine Provi- 
dence, he lias been my salvation ! ” exclaimed Drusilla, 
her face beaming with gratitude and affection. 

“ I am very glad you came here as you did, my dear, 
and gave him the opportunity of doing what he has done. 


ENTERTAINING ANGELS. 


65 


He has a great large heart, and not objects enough to fill 
it. He is very fond of you and j-^our boy, and your pres- 
ence here makes him happier. But ‘ to return to our mut- 
tons ’ — about this party at the Seymours. Now, as to your 
scruples about going into company, instead of living 
secluded on account of Alexander’s desertion, — dismiss 
them at once. Leaning on my grandfather’s arm, — for he 
is to be your escort, and Dick mine, — you can go anywhere 
with safetj'. But, if there is any other reason why you do 
not wish to go to the Seymours, of course you can stay at 
home. We wish you to use the most perfect freedom of 
action, my dear Drusilla, and we will only interfere when 
we see you inclined to immolate yourself upon the pagan 
altar of your idol. So, in the matter of the party, pray do 
as you please.” 

“ Then, if you and uncle think it right, I would like 
very much to go with you. I enjoy parties. I enjoyed 
ours very much.” 

“ I should think you did. You are not seventeen years 
old yet, and all your social pleasures are to come. You 
were the beauty of the evening, my little cousin.” 

Oh no, Anna, oh no, no, wo, Anna ! that I never could 
be where you are ! ” exclaimed Drusilla, blushing intensely 
with the earnestness of her denial. 

“ Nonsense ! I am an old maid. I am quite passee. I 
am nearly twenty-three years old, and have been out five 
seasons ! ” laughed Anna, with the imperious disdain of 
her own words with which a conscious beauty sometimes 
says just such things. 

‘‘ Oh, Anna, Anna, how can you say such things of 
yourself? I would not let any one else say them of you, 
Anna ! Why, Anna, you know you moved through your 
grandfather’s halls that night a perfect queen of beauty ! 
There was no one who could at all equal or approach 
you ! ” 


4 


66 


THE bride’s fate. 


^‘Nonsense, I say! I overlieard several people say that 
I was not looking so well as usual — that I had seen my 
best days, and so forth.” 

They were envious and spiteful people wdiom you had 
eclipsed, Anna, and, if I had heard them, I should have 
given them to know it 1 ” 

“ You, you little pigeon, can you peck ? ” lauglied 
Anna. 

“ Pigeons can peck, and sharply too, I assure you. And 
I should have pecked any one whom I heard saying imper- 
tinent things of you ; but I heard nothing of the sort — I 
heard only praises and admiration. But there ! I declare 
you ought not to disparage jmurself so as to oblige me to 
tell the truth about you to your face, for, in this case, truth 
is high praise, and it is perfectly odious to have to praise 
a friend to her face,” said Drusilla. 

agree with you. So, if you will let me have the last 
word and say that you really were the beauty of our ball, I 
will consent to drop the subject. And now for the other 
one ! So you would like to go to the Seymours ? ” 

Yes, very much, for I enjoy parties. I do not think I 
should like to go to one every day or even ever}’- week ; 
but once or twice a month I really should eiijo}’- them.” 

What a moderate little belle! Well, and now comes 
the next important question. What are we to wear ? Un- 
luckily we cannot order the carriage and drive down the 
street to the most fashionable modistes and inspect the 
newest styles of dress goods and head-dresses and all that, 
as if we were in the cit^". We are in the country, and 
must make our toilet from what we have got in the house. 
Heigh ho ! it is a great bore, being so far away from 
shops.” 

“ But, oh, Anna, we have got so much in the house. 
Think of your magnificent trousseau, with scarcely one of 
your many dresses touched yet.” 


ENTERTAINING ANGELS. 


67 


That is all very well. But you know they were made 
and trimmed between two and six months ago ; and every 
week something new in the way of trimmings and head- 
dresses comes up in town. However, we must do the best 
we can. It is a countrj’- ball, and all the guests will be in 
the same case, that is one comfort.” 

^‘Not one of them will be so well off as you are with 
your trousseau.” 

“ That is true, and that is another comfort, a very selfish 
one however. Well, let me see, I think I will wear my 
light blue taffeta, with a white illusion over it, looped up 
with blue bells and lilies of the valley, with a wreath of 
the same. How wdll that do ? ” 

“ It will be very pretty and tasteful. 

^^And you, my darling? What have you to wear? 
You'know my dresses fit you, and my wardrobe is quite at 
your service.” 

“Thanks, dear Anna; but I have a great plenty of 
dresses that have never been worn, and of dress goods that 
have never been 'made up. In the first weeks of our mar- 
ried life my dear Alick bought every rich and pretty thing 
he could lay his hands on for me.” 

“ Very w'ell, then. What shall you wear ? ” 

“ You know that being in the second year of my mourn- 
ing, I am restricted to black and white. I think a black 
illusion over black silk, with the sleeves and boscm edged 
with ruches of white illusion ; pearl necklace and bracelets, 
and half open white moss roses in my hair and on my 
bosom ; white kid gloves and white' fan. There, Anna 
dear, I have given you a complete description of my in- 
tended toilet.” 

“Ami nothing could be prettier. Here comes grand- 
papa ! ” 

And at that moment the old gentleman entered the 


room. 


68 


THE bride’s fate. 


Well, my dears, if we are immured in the country at 
this festive season of the year, we are not likely to be very 
dull, are we ? smiled the old gentleman, holding out his 
card. 

^‘No indeed, sir; that we are not! But what do you 
think of Drusilla here ? She was really meditating upon 
the propriety of giving up all society, and living the life of 
a recluse,” said Anna, mischievously. 

‘‘ Well, if such a life is so much to her taste, we have no 
sort of right to object,” the old man replied, in the same 
spirit of raillery. 

But it is not to her taste. Drusilla is formed by nature 
and disposition to enjoy all innocent social pleasures. But 
she imagined that in her peculiar circumstances it became 
her duty to retire from the world altogether.” 

The veteran turned his clear eyes kindly on his protegee, 
and taking her hand, said : 

My dear child, when I gave you a daughter's place in 
my heart and home, and took a father’s position towards 
you, I became responsible for the safety of your fair fame as 
well as for your person. Both are perfectly secure under 
my protection. No one will venture to assail the one more 
than the other. Go wherever Anna goes, enjoy all that she 
enjoys. It is even well that you should have the harmless 
recreations natural to your youth, and that she should have 
a companion of her own sex. And I shall always be your 
escort.” 

Drusilla pressed the old man’s hand to her heart and 
lips ; it was her usual way of thanking him. 

And this quite settled the question, if it had not been 
settled before. 

When the Twelfth day came, Anna and Drusilla, beau- 
tifully attired in the dresses they had decided upon, and 
escorted by General Lyon and Dick, went to the Seymours’ 
party. 


ENTERTAINING ANGELS. 


69 


As at tlie Christmas ball, Drusilla’s beauty created a 
great sensation ; not, indeed, that she was more beautiful 
than Miss Lyon, but her beauty w'as of a fresher type. As 
before, General Lyon was her first partner, and Kichard 
Hammond her second. And after that, there was great 
rivalry among the candidates for the honor of her hand. 
But she danced only quadrilles ; and only with those pre- 
sented to her by her uncle. This ball, like all country balls, 
was kept up all night. But General Lyon’s age and Dru- 
silla’s maternal solicitude, both rendered it expedient that 
they should retire early. So a few minutes after twelve, 
the old gentleman and his protegee took leave, promising 
that the coachman should have orders to return at daylight 
and fetch Anna and Dick home. 

After this followed other parties given by the country 
gentry. And to all of them the Lyons were invited, and 
in all the invitations Drusilla was included. And the 
lovely young wife was admired by all v/ho saw her, and 
beloved by those who came to know her well. 

Occasionally, embarrassing questions were asked by those 
who had more curiosity than tact, but they were always 
skillfully parried by the party to whom they were put. 

Bor instance, when some old crony would venture to ask 
the General how it was that Mr. Alick had married this 
clergyman’s orphan daughter when all the world supposed 
him to be about to marry his cousin Anna, the General 
would answer as before : 

“ That projected marriage was a plan of mine and of my 
brother’s ; and as it was based upon our own wishes rather 
than on the affections of our young people, it did not suc- 
ceed, and did not deserve to do so. The aged cannot choose 
for the young in affairs of the heart. My nephew married 
this charming girl privately one year ago, and the cere- 
mony was repeated publicly in my house two months since. 
I gave the bride away. And I am very much charmed 


70 


THE bride’s fate. 


with my niece. My grand-daughter Anna, and my grand 
nephew, Richard Hammond, will be united in a few 
months.’’ 

“But where is the happy bridegroom now?” might be 
the next question. 

“ jV.lexander is in Washington negotiating the sale of 
real estate,” would be the answer. 

Sometimes a troublesome questioner, in the form of some 
young friend or companion would assail Anna, in some 
such way as this : 

“ Well, we were never more surprised in our lives than 
when we found out that Alick Lyon had married a parson’s 
daughter without a penny. We thought you were going to 
take him, Anna ? ” 

“But I preferred* Dick,” would be Anna’s frank reply. 

“ Then I suppose he married the clergyman’s daughter in 
a fit of pique.” 

“Hot at all; it was in a. fit of love.” 

“ And she quite penniless.” 

“ I beg your pardon, she is a very wealthy woman.” 

“ What ! the clergjmian’s daughter ? ” 

“ Yes, for she is a billionaire’s niece, and sole heiress.” 

“ Oh ! then it was a mercenary match ? ” 

“ Hot at all, for he knew nothing of her fortune when he 
married her. And now, also, please remember you are 
speaking of my cousins.” 

“ Beg your pardon, Anna ! I meant no harm ; and you 
know 3"ou and I are such old, old friends ! ” 

Very often it would be Richard Hammond who would be 
called to the witness stand with a — 

“ Hillo, Dick ! So you are a lucky dog after all ! How 
was it now ? Come, tell us all about it ! Did you cut 
Alick out with Anna, or did the pretty little parson’s 
daughter cut Anna out with Alick ? ” 

“Each one of us cut all the others out,” Dick would 
reply, with owl-l’ke gravity. 


ENTERTAINING ANGELS 71 

“ Eh ? what ? stop, don’t go away ! How can that be ? 
We don’t understand ! ” 

‘‘Well, if you don’t, that’s your look out. 1 can’t make 
you understand.” 

And so Dick would turn off impertinent inquiry. 

Eortunately, also, everywhere Drusilla’s face and manners 
inspired perfect confidence and warm esteem. No one 
could look on her, or hear her speak, and doubt her good- 
ness. 

“ It is very queer. There’s a screw loose somewhere ; 
but whoever may be wrong, she is all right,” was the 
verdict of the neighborhood in, the young wife’s favor. 

Meanwhile a very brisk correspondence went on between 
General Lyon on one part, and Messrs. Hen age and Kent 
(Drusilla’s lawyers) on the other. The General soon con- 
vinced the legal gentlemen that Anna Drusilla Lyon, born 
Stirling, was the heiress of whom they were in search. 

Still, where so much was at stake, they were bound to 
be very cautious, and to receive nothing, not the very 
smallest fact, upon trust. 

So, though General Lyon very seldom troubled Dru- 
silla with this correspondence, he did sometimes feel obliged 
to come to her for information as to where a certain im- 
portant witness was to be found ; in what cemetery a par- 
ticular tombstone was to be looked for ; or in what parish 
church such a marriage had been solemnized, or such a 
baptism administered. 

And Drusilla’s prompt and pointed answers very much 
cleared and expedited the business. 

In a more advanced stage of affairs it seemed that she 
would have to go up to Baltimore ; but General Lyon 
would not hear of her taking any trouble that he could save 
her ; so he wrote to the legal gentlemen, requesting one of 
the firm to come down to Old Lyon Hall in person, or to 
send a confidential clerk, and promising to pay all expenses 
of travelling, loss of time, and so forth. 


72 


THE bride’s fate. 




In answer to this letter, Mr. Kent, the junior partner, 
arrived at the old hall early in February. 

He was armed with a formidable bag of documents, and 
he was closeted all day long with General Lyon in the 
study. 

One can have no secrets from one’s lawyer any more than 
from one’s physician or confessor ; and so General Lyon 
felt constrained to tell Mr. Kent of the existing estrange* 
meiit between the heiress and her husband. 

And what 1 particularly wish,” said the general, confi- 
dentially and earnestly, “ is that the whole of this large in- 
heritance, coming as it does from her family, may be 
secured to her separate use, independently of her husband.” 

“ And that, you are aware, cannot be done, except 
through a process of law. She must sue for a separate 
maintenance. Even in such a case I doubt whether the 
court would adjudge her the whole of this enormous fortune, 
or even the half of it. Still it is her only resource,” an- 
swered Lawyer Kent. 

A resource she will never resort to. It would be vain 
and worse than vain to suggest it to her. She worships 
her husband ; and it is through no fault of hers that they 
are estranged. Indeed it was through consideration for 
him that she was so reticent last year, as to raise suspicions 
in your mind that her claim to the estate was an unjustly 
assumed one. No, Mr. Kent, we must take some other 
course to secure the inheritance to her, and without saying 
a word to her on the subject either.” 

“ There is no other way, sir, but by such a suit as I have 
suggested.” 

“ Pardon me, I think there is. Mr. Alexander Lyon 
has deserted his wife and child and failed to provide for 
them. Such is not the course of an honorable man. 
Still, as some of the same sort of blood that warms my own 
old heart runs also in his veins, there must be some littlo 


% 

ENTERTAINING ANGELS. 73 

sense of honor sleeping somewhere in his system. We 
must awaken it and appeal to it. He must of his own free 
will make over all his right, title and interest in this inheri- 
tance to his injured young wife.” 

“ Does he know of this inheritance, sir ? ” 

“ Not one word, I think.” 

“ Do you believe that he will act as you wish ? ” 

“ I have not the least doubt of it. Without this fortune 
of his wife, he is as rich as Croesus ; and he is also as proud 
as Lucifer. Having discarded her, he would not touch a 
penn}’' of her money, if it was to save his own life or hers. 
So it is not because I think he would waste, or even use her 
means, that I wish her fortune settled upon herself, but be- 
cause I wish her to be totall}’’ independent of him and to be 
able to do her owm will with her own money.” 

I see,” said Mr. Kent. Where is Mr. Alexander 
Lyon now ? ” 

“In Washington City, where I would like you to call 
upon and apprise him of this large inheritance and of our 
wishes in regard to it.” 

“ I will do so with pleasure. Pray give me your instruc- 
tions at large, and also a letter of introduction to Mr. 
L3’’on.” 

“ I had almost sworn never to hold any communication 
with that man- again. But for his wife’s dear sake I will 
write the letter. And now, Mr. Kent, there is our first 
dinner-bell. Allow me to ring for a servant, who will show 
you to a chamber prepared for you. I will await you here 
and take you to the dining-room.” 

The dust-covered lawyer bowed his thanks and followed 
the servant who was called to attend him. 

At dinner that day, the lawyer, for the first time, met his 
beautiful client, Mrs. Alexander L3^on. And with all his 
experience of mankind, great was his wonder that any man 
in his sober senses could have abandoned such a loveN 
young creatur# . 


74 


THE BRID e’s FATE. 


Mr. Kent staid two days at Old Lyon Hallj and then, 
primed with instructions and with a letter to Alexander, he 
left for Washington and Baltimore. 

It happened 'just as General Lyon had predicted. 

Alexander, sulking, at his apartments in one of the most 
fashionable hotels in the Capital, received the lawyer’s visit 
and his uncle’s letter. 

He was immeasurably astonished at the announcement 
of his wife’s inheritance of an enormous fortune. At first, 
indeed, he listened to the intelligence with scornful incre- 
dulity ; but when convinced beyond all doubt of the truth, 
his amazement was unbounded. He had never before heard 
of the California billionaire, and could not now realize the 
fact that poor Drusilla was a great heiress. He scarcely 
succeeded in concealing from the lawyer the excess of his 
amazement. He was, literally, almost “ stunned ” by the 
news. 

The lawyer’s time was precious ; so, barely giving Mr. 
Alexander a minute to recover his lost breath, and acting 
upon General Lyon’s instructions, he proposed to the hus- 
band to resign the whole of her newly-inherited wealth to 
his discarded wife. 

Alexander arose, a proud disdain curling his lips and 
flashing from his eyes, and answered haughtily : 

Unquestionably, sir ! Prepare the proper papers with 
your utmost dispatch. I had intended to sail for Europe 
in Saturday’s steamer, but I will forfeit my passage and 
wait here until these deeds shall be executed ; for I could 
no more bear to hold an hour’s interest in her inheritance 
than I could bear any other sort of ignominy. How soon 
can v,he documents be ready ? ” 

]VH. Kent could not tell within a day or two — lawyers 
neve"* can, you know. But he engaged to prepare them very 
earlj in the next week, in time for IMr. Lycn to embark 
upon his voyage on the folio vring Saturday. 


ENTERTAINING ANGELS. 75 

And so Lawyer Kent went on liis way to Baltimore, 
musing : 

He. is a splendid fellow, and she is a sweet young crea- 
ture ; they are an admirable pair ! What the mischief can 
have come between them ? — ah, the devil, of course \ ” 

Mr. Kent was as good as his word. On Tuesday morn- 
ing, he placed the requisite deeds in tlie hands of Mr. Lyon, 
who, in the presence of several witnesses and before a 
notary-public, formally signed, sealed, and delivered them 
again into the custody of the lawyer. 

And, on Thursday evening, Mr. Kent arrived at Old 
Lyon Hall, to announce the successful termination of the 
whole business, and to congratulate his client on her acces- 
sion to one of the largest fortunes in America. 

And I think, my dear,” whispered General Lyon to his 
protegee, “ that you cannot better show your sense of these 
gentlemen’s zeal in your cause than by making them your 
agents in the management of your financial affairs.” 

I perfectly agree with you, my dear uncle. Tell them 
so, please,” replied Drusilla, 

And so it was arranged ; and Mr. Kent went on his way 
rejoicing, ‘‘having made a good thing of it.” 

“And Alick has signed over to me all his marital in- 
terest in my fortune ! Well, I know he did not need any 
part of it ; but he would have been welcome, oh, so heartily 
welcome, to the whole. At most, .1 onlj* should have 
wanted enough to buy back dear Cedarwood,” said Drusilla 
to her gossip, Anna, as they sat together in the nursery. 

“He did right. How co 2 ild he have done otherwise 
under the circumstances ? Even you, with all your loving 
faith, must have despised him if, after forsaking you, he 
had taken any part of your fortune,” said Anna. 

Drusilla blushed intensely, at thp bare supposition that 
her Alick could do anything to make her loyal heart 
despise him, and she answered warmly : 


76 


THE bride’s fate. 


But he did not do it ! He would never do such a 
thing. If my Alick has ever erred it has been under tlie 
influence of some great passion amounting almost to mad- 
ness ! He would not do wrong in cold blood.’’ 

Anna did not gainsay her. Miss Lyon had quite given 
up arguing with the 3"oung wife on the subject of her 
husband’s merits. If Drusilla had chosen to assert that 
Alexander was the wisest of sages, the bravest of heroes 
and the best of saints, Anna would not openly have ditfer- 
ed with her. But now she turned the conversation from 
his merits to his movements. 

“ Alick sails for Europe to-morrow,” she said. 

“Yes, so Mr. Kent saj^s. But do you know what steam- 
er he goes in, Anna ? Mr. Kent did not happen to name 
it, and I shrank from asking him.” 

“ There is but one — the Erie. I suppose, of course, ho 
goes on that. However, on Monday we sliall get the Kew 
York papers, and then we can examine the list of passen- 
gers, and see if his name is among them,” said Anna. 

And with that answer the j^oung wife had to rest 
satisfied. 


CHAPTER VII. 

HALCYON DAYS. 


A course of days, coTuposin" happy weeks. 

And they as happy months ; the day is still 

So like the last, as all so firm a pledge 

Of a congenial future, that the wheels 

Of pleasure move without the aid of hope.— W okdsworth. 

Very early on Monday morning Jacob Junior was dis- 
patched to Saulsburg to meet the mail and fetch the papers. 
The messenger was so diligent that he brought in the bag 


HALCYON DAYS. 77 

anl delivered it to his master while the family sat at break- 
fast. 

There were no letters for anybody, hut all the last Sat- 
urday’s papers had come. 

General Lyon distributed them. A New York evening 
journal fell to Anna’s share. She turned immediately to 
look for the news of the outward bound steamers. She 
soon found what she was in search of. And as Alick’s 
name was still a tacitly dropped word in the presence of 
her grandfather, she sile-ntly passed the paper to Drusilla, 
and pointed to the list of passengers for Liverpool who 
sailed by the Erie, from New York, on the Saturday pre- 
vious. 

Drusilla looked and read among them : 

Mr. Alexander Lyon and two servantsP 

Drusilla nodded and smiled, saying in a low voice : 

‘^It is better so, for the present. 1 hope that he will 
enjoy himself and come home in a happier frame of mind.’’ 

“ Of whom are you speaking, my child ? ” inquired the 
general, raising his eyes from a report of the last great 
debate in the Senate. 

“ Of Alick. He sailed. in the Erie for Liverpool on last 
Saturday,” answered Drusilla, quite calmly. 

Ah ! he did? Well, I think it about the best thing he 
could have done. I hope he will stay there until he comes 
to his senses. Joy go with him ! ” heartily exclaimed the 
old ge'ntleman. 

Dear uncle ! ” pleaded Drusilla. 

Well, my dear, what now ? I said, ‘ Joy go with him.’ 
That was a benediction, was it not ? ” 

I thought it was a sarcasm,” said Drusilla, archly. 

The general coughed slightly and returned to the perusal 
of the debate. 

So Mr. Alexander had betaken himself to parts un- 
known^ and Drusilla was by no means broker-hearted on 
lhat account. 


78 


THE bride’s fate. 


All the tears she was ever destined to shed for him 
seemed already to have fallen; all the heart-aches she; was 
ever to feel for him seemed already to have been suffered 
and forgotten. 

Understand once for all that, though she loved him as 
faithfully and hoped in him as trustfully as ever, she no 
longer mourned his absence. 

I repeat it — she could love forever and hope forever, but 
she could not grieve forever — not with her beautiful bright 
boy before her eyes. 

It was delightful to see the young mother at this time of 
her life. She was the sunshine of that sweet old home. 
All the joyousness, hopefulness and truthfulness of child- 
hood seemed to have returned to her ; or, rather, as her own 
childhood had not been a particularly happy one, to have 
come to her for the first time with her child. 

She sang in her nursing chair, or at her needle-work, all 
the morning; she^sang at the piano, or the harp, or sang 
duets with Anna or Dick in the evening. She had a clear, 
sweet, elastic voice, a pure soprano, perfectly adapted to the 
bird -like carols that she most favored. 

General Lyon, whose passion for music had survived all 
other e-T thusiasms, and had even increased with his declin- 
ing years, seemed never to grow weary o'f her delicious 
notes. 

This pleased Anna. 

Dear grandpa,” she would often repeat, I am so glad 
you have her here ; and will have her with you when Dick 
takes me away. It will be such a comfort to me to feel you 
are not lonesome.” 

“ I don’t know how that may be, my dear. The more I 
see of our darling, the more inclined I am to think that 
fellow will come to his senses and claim her from us before 
we are willing to resign her. And then what shall I do? ” 
the old man once inquired, with a sigh. 


HALCYONDAYS. 79 

And then Brasilia put her hand in his, and looked up in 
his eyes with all a daughter’s devotion, and answered : 

“ Bear uncle, you sheltered me when I had not a friend 
in the world. You saved my life and my boj’^'s life. You 
gave him your name, and gave us both a home. And I 
will never leave you alone, never — not even for him will I 
leave you, until Anna and Bick come home from theii 
bridal tour to leave you no more.” 

“ I know it, my child, I know it ; I need no assurance 
from you to teach me how unselfish you are. But, my dear 
girl, do you think I would permit you to sacrifice your hap- 
piness for my sake ? No, dear Brasilia, when our prodigal 
comes to himself and seeks your love again, you will be 
ready and eager to be reunited to him, and you must go 
with him, although I should be left alone. And this for 
your happiness, which must not be sacrified for me.” 

Happiness ? sacrificed ? Oh, uncle ! father, dear, dear 
friend ! you do not know my heart. The happiness would 
be in staying with you to solace your solitude ; the sacrifice 
would be in leaving you alone. I could not and would not 
do it, no, not even for my dear Alick. Nor would he wish 
it; for when he ^ comes to himself,*’ as you say, he will 
come to his better, nobler self, — his just and true self.” 

Ah ! my darling, you have great faith in that man.” 

Because I judge him by the whole tenor of his past 
life, and not by the last few months of moral insanity ! ” 

‘^May Heaven justify your faith, m}'’ dear,” replied the 
veteran. 

Soon after the Christmas and New Year’s festivities were 
over. Bichard Hammond made a move towards terminating 
his visit. But poor Bick’s nature was so perfectly trans- 
parent that every one knew it was a most reluctant move. 
General Lyon, Anna and Brasilia all knew that Bick was 
very desirous of staying at Old Ljmn Hall, and they all 
felt that the unlucky day,” would be much safer with hia 


80 


THE bride’s fate. 


relations in the country than among his “ friends ” in the 
city. So when Dick at lengt’h named an early day in 
February for his departure, the General said : 

Nonsense, boy, stay where you are.’’ 

“ I should be glad enough to stay,” Dick frankly an- 
swered, “ but you see I feel I am trespassing. Bless my 
soul and life, sir, I have been here nearly three months.” 

“What of that? Stay three years. Stay three cen- 
turies if you live so long. My boy, all counted, w'e are but 
four ; not enough to crowd this big old house ; not enough 
to fill it, or half fill it. So, if you find yourself at ease 
among us, remain with us.” 

“ But you see, dear grandpa,” said Anna, wickedly, “ he 
is not at ease among us. He is very restless with us. He 
is longing to get back to the city. He is pining for the 
society of his esteemed friends — the gallant Captain Bed- 
in g and the brave Lieutenant Harpe.” 

“ Oh, Anna, Anna ! that was blood-thirsty !»” said Dick 
in a grieved and outraged manner. 

“Then if that is not so, what is the attraction to the 
city, Dick ? ” laughed Anna. 

“ Nothing at all. You know that as well as I do.” 

Anna did know it, but for all that she answ'ered mali- 
ciously : 

“ Then I can’t think why you wish to leave us.” 

“ I don’t wish to leave you. I would much rather stay. 
I have been here so long, I might well suppose that I had 
worn out my welcome. But as you and uncle are kind 
enough to tell me that I have not, I will stay, and Ghank 
you too,’ as the girl said to the boy that asked her to have 
him.” 

“ And don’t take it into your head again, Dick, that you 
are wearing out jmur welcome. When we get tired of you, 
Dick, I will take it upon myself to send you about your 
business.” 


HALCYON DAYS. 


81 


“ Very well, Anna. T hope you will do so.” 

In truth, Dick had enough to keep him in the neighbor- 
hood. Hammond House and Hammondville, forming the 
greater portion of the landed estate he had recently in- 
herited, lay within a few miles of Old L3’on Hall. 

The whole place was now in charge of a resident bailiff, 
who was instructed to put it in thorough repair for the re- 
ception of its new master. And these repairs were going 
on as fast as circumstances would permit. 

The outdoor work was of course frequently suspended 
during the inclemency of the weather. But the house was 
filled with carpenters, plasterers, painters and paper- 
hangers. 

And it was well that Dick should occasionally ride there 
to overlook these ^workmen. The most careful instructions 
are not often carried out, under these circumstances, with- 
out the frequent presence of the master. ' 

It was thought expedient also that Anna, whose home it 
would sometime be, should be taken into the counsels and 
accompany Dick in his visits of inspection to Hammond 
House. And whenever the weather permitted she went 
there with him. 

Hammond House was not to be their permanent home, 
however. During the life of General Lyon, they were to 
live at Old Lyon Hall. 

Three times a week, when the mail came into Saulsburg 
and the letters and papers were brought to Old Ljmn Hall, 
Drusilla turned to the ship-news. At length she saw an 
nounced the safe arrival of the Erie at Liverpool. And 
then she knew that was the last of even indirect news she 
might hope to hear of Alexander. 

But she was not depressed on that account. Her faith, 
hope and love were strong. Everybody was very good to 
her. Her baby boy was growing in strength, beauty and 
intelligence. 

5 


82 


THE bride’s fate. 


The spring was to be early this year. The latter days of 
Pebruary were bright and lovely harbingers of its quick 
approach. 

In the finest hours of the finest days Drusilla took her 
baby out for short drives around the park — the nurse drag- 
ging the little carriage and the mother walking by its side, 
and Leo often following to open gates or remove obstacles. 

There was not unfrequently a high dispute between the 
brother and sister as to who should take care of the baby. 

Leo insisted that as the baby was a boy, it was his riglit 
to have charge of him, and declared that he could see no 
fitness at all in a girl setting herself up to nurse a boy. 

Pina retorted that such a thing as a male nurse never 
was heard of either for male or female child. 

Leo would then bring forward his mistress’s promise that 
he himself should have a good time with little Master 
Leonard, riding him about on his shoulder. 

Pina would request him to give that piece of information 
to the “ horse-marines,” who might be credulous enough 
to believe his stor3^ As for herself, she rejected it totall3^ 
and held fast by her own rights as sole nurse by appoint- 
ment of her mistress. 

Through all these quarrels one fact was evident — the 
devotion of the brother and sister to the jmung child and 
his mother, of whom it might almost be said that their 
servants were ready to laj: down their lives in their service. 

Drusilla had not given up her fiivorite project of purchas- 
ing Cedarwood. She had written and instructed her attor- 
neys to make overtures to the present proprietors of the 
place, for that purchase. She told them that she knew of 
course the people who had so recently purchased the prop- 
erty would want a very handsome bonus before they would 
consent to part with it again so soon ; and that she was pre- 
pared to satisfj?^ their demands, as she preferred to pay an 
exhorbitant price for the place rather than miss its pos- 
session 


HALCTON DAYS 


83 


Her attorneys, who were long-headed men of business, in 
no way given to sentiment or extravagance, wrote in reply 
that they hoped with a little patience and good management 
to buy the estate at something like a fair valuation. 

So Drusilla agreed to wait. 

Meanwhile General Lyon had not forgotten that he had 
promised to purchase Cedarwood, and bestow it upon Dru- 
silla as a New Year’s present. And he also set about nego- 
tiating for his purpose. 

This reached the ears of Drusilla’s lawyers, who imme- 
diately wrote to ask her if she was aware that her uncle, also, 
was after the place. 

Drusilla was not aware of the fact ; hut now that she 
heard of it, she of course understood that the General could 
only be seeking it for her sake. 

So she went to the old gentleman and assured him that 
as much as she loved him, she could not possibly receive so 
magnificent a present from his hands, but very much desired 
to purchase the estate with her own funds. 

General Lyon laughed, and assured her that his only 
motive in trying to buy Cedarwood was to keep his word to 
her ; but that, if she released him from it, he was ready to 
give up the project. For he was well aware, he said, that 
to bestow property on a lady who owned warehouses piled 
with merchandize in Baltimore and San Francisco, and 
merchant ships at sea trading to all parts of the world, 
besides bank stock and railway shares in almost every 
State, and gold mines in California, to bestow a little bit 
of property on such a billionaire would simply be to send 
coals to Newcastle.” 

So the General wrote and stopped the proceedings of his 
lawyers. 

And Drusilla wrote and told hers to go ahead as fast as 
they saw fit. 

But it was April before any measure of importance was 


84 


THE bride’s fate. 


taken. Then Messrs. Heneage & Kent, who had been as 
active and as artful as detectives in the business, wrote to 
inform their client that they had discovered that the pres- 
ent proprietor of Cedarwood, who was a person of very 
restless disposition and unsettled habits, had become dissat- 
isfied with the place and was anxious to dispose of it, and 
would do so immediately if he could sell it for as much as 
he gave for it. Kow, as Alexander Lyon had sold the 
estate at some sacrifice during his fit of fury, it was there- 
fore supposed to be a good bargain. The lawyers wrote to 
ask further instructions from their client. 

Drusilla by return mail directed them to buy Cedarwood 
immediately, as her great desire was to possess it as soon as 
possible, on any terms. She also requested them to buy 
as much of the wooded land around Cedarwood as they 
could get at a reasonable, or even at a slightly i«7ireason- 
able price, as she intended to improve the place as much as 
it would admit of, and wished, among other things, to have 
a little home park. 

It was well for this young Fortunata that her attorneys 
had much more prudence than herself. They were not dis- 
posed to pay fancy prices for fancy places, even when they 
were spending their client’s money instead of their own, 
and getting a good percentage on it. So they managed 
matters so well that, by the first of May, the whole busi- 
ness was successfully completed. 

Cedarwood with its original twenty-five acres of partially 
cleared land, was purchased for twenty thousand dollars, 
and one hundred acres of wild forest land lying all around 
it was purchased for thirty thousand — the whole property 
costing fifty thousand. 

A very excellent investment,” wrote Heneage & Kent, 
“ even as a mere countr}’- seat ; but the land so near the 
city is rapidly rising in value ; and when you may wish to 
do so in future years, you may divide it into half a hundred 


HALC'y ON DAYS. 


86 


villa sites, and sell each part for as much money as you 
now pay for the whole.” 

But Drusilla was not thinking of land speculations, so 
she ran to her friends and, after telling them of the com- 
pletion of the purchase of Cedarwood, she exclaimed : 

‘‘ And now we shall have such a beautiful home near the 
city to receive us all when we go to Washington to spend 
the winter. It will be so much better than a hotel or 
boarding-house in the city. It is only half an hour’s drive 
from the Capitol. We can live there so comfortable and be 
as quiet as we please when we wish to be so, and enter into 
all the amusements of the city we like when we wish to do 
so. It will only be to start half an hour earlier when we 
go to a party or a play, half an hour earlier from Cedar- 
wood than we should from a hotel in the city, I mean. 
And then when we leave a brilliant ball-room pr opera- 
house, it will be so pleasant to come to a sweet, quiet home 
in the woods, instead of a noisy, unwholesome hotel — don’t 
you think so, dear uncle ? ” she said, appealing to the Gen- 
eral. 

Yes, my darling, I do,” answered the old gentleman. 

“ And shall you like the plan ? ” 

Very much, my dear child. I never could sleep well 
at any of the hotels in Washington or in any other city, 
for that matter. The noise of the carriages in the streets 
always kept me awake nearly all night.” 

And you, Anna — shall you like it ? ” 

<< Of course I shall. I detest hotels. The clean face 
towels always smell sour or fetid, for one thing. And 
hoarding houses and furnished lodgings are almost as bad.” 

I am delighted ! So in future I and my baby shall be 
‘^our guests at Old Lyon Hall or at Hammond House dur- 
ing the summer, and you all shall be my guests at Cedar- 
wood all the winter. And I shall write to “ mammy,” and 
offer her and her husband the situations of housekeeper 


86 


THE bride’s fate. 


and head gardener there, at liberal wages. And they will 
keep the house and grounds always in good order, and 
ready to reecive us. Will not that be pleasant, Dick ? ” 
Pleasant ! ” exclaimed Mr. Hammond enthusiastically 
" it will be perfectly delightful. ” 


CHAPTEE yill. 


THE END OF PROBATION 


From that day forth, in peace and Joyous bliss. 

They lived together long, without debate ; 

No private jars, nor spite of enemies. 

Could shake the safe assurance of their state. — SfENSEB. 


Besides the natural geniality and sociability of his dis- 
position, which always moved General Lyon to bring his 
friends and relations about him, there were other and even 
stronger motives that urged him to invite Eichard Ham- 
mond to remain at Old Lyon Hall. The old gentleman 
wanted to save “the unlucky dog from his friends,” and 
also he wanted to study him. 

And as weeks and months of close companionship in the 
seclusion of the country house passed away, he did study 
him. And apparently the study was satisfactory. 

All poor Dick’s impulses were altogether good. Indeed, 
it was through the very goodness of his nature that he so 
often came to grief. 

Dick could not bear to say Ko ; and not only ever to his 
friends, hut not even to his enemies, for his salvation. 
Dick could not endure to inflict pain, not only ever upon 
good people hut not even upon sinners. And these amiable 
traits in his character were used by evil-disposed people to 
his injury. 

There was indeed so much of the woman in Dick’s gentle 


THE END OF PROBATION. 


87 


and lively nature that very few women could have loved 
him as Anna did. But then there was enough of the man 
in Anna’s nature to produce an equilibrium of the sexes in 
their union. 

General Lyon noticed all this, and he noticed something 
else — namely, that though Dick and Anna certainly loved 
each other devotedly, they bore their probation with exem- 
plary patience. 

This touched the heart of the veteran, hut still he would 
not shorten the time. 

Moreover, he felt the infirmities of age creeping upon 
him, he knew that at his years life was extremely precari- 
ous, and he certainly wanted to see another generation of 
Lyons in lineal descent from himself before he should go 
home and be no more on earth. 

Yet for all this he would not hasten the marriage of Dick 
and Anna. 

Drusilla, with her quick perceptions and warm sympa- 
thies, read the hearts of all around, and wished to make 
them happy. 

Like an artful little angel as she was, she chose her oppor- 
tunity well. 

It was a lovely day in the latter part of April, and Gen- 
eral Lyon and herself were sitting alone together in a front 
parlor where windows opened upon a conservatory in full 
bloom. 

Dick and Anna were gone on a visit of inspection of the 
works at Hammond House. 

The General had little Leonard in his arms. 

Drusilla was sewing beside them. 

Ah, my dear, you do not know how much this little fel- 
low adds to my happiness ! ” he said. 

“ I am always so glad and grateful to hear you say that, 
dear uncle, and I hope little Leonard as he grows in intelli- 
gence will he more and more of a comfort to you,” she re- 
plied ; and then, after a little pause, she said : 


88 


THE bride’s fate. 


<< But if little Leonard, who is only my son, gives you 
80 much content, how much joy Anna’s children will give 
you.” 

I don’t know, my dear ; and, besides, I may not live to 
see them.” 

Dear uncle, you will live many years yet.” 

I cannot hope to do that, my dear. I am past seventy. 
I have already lived out the three-score and ten years 
allotted as the natural term of a man’s life.” 

But, dear uncle, I think all nature teaches us that a 
CENTURY is the natural term of a man’s life.” 

“ A pleasant theory, my child. I wish it were a true 
one.” 

“ But I think it is a true one.” 

“ Why do you think so ? ” 

From analogy. All natural philosophers and historians 
who have made the nature and habits of the animal crea- 
tion their study, have agreed upon this fact ; that ah 
healthy animals, unless their lives are terminated by 
violence, live five times as long as it takes them to grow up. 
Now it takes the human animal twenty years at least to 
grow to maturity ; therefore the human animal really should 
live five times twenty years, which makes a round hundred 
or a CENTURY ; and I firmly believe it is intended for him 
to live that long, if he onlj’^ acted in accordance with the 
laws of life and health. And, dear uncle, you seem always 
to have acted so, and therefore 1 think you maj’^ safely cal- 
culate upon living out your century and then dying the 
gentle death of mere old age.” 

“ There is a certain reasonableness m your theory, my 
little philosopher.” 

“ And there is a roundness and completeness in this full 
century of life which is so satisfactory,” said Drusilla, 
heartily. 

Yes, my dear, especially to those who love this planet 


T.HE END OF PROBATION. 


89 


Earth, with all her failings, as I confess I do,” smiled the 
old gentleman. And besides, I would like to see Anna 
and Dick happily married, with a thriving family of boys 
and girls about their knees.” 

“ Then, dear uncle, why not let them marry at once ? ” 
pleaded Drusilla. 

Marry at once!’ Drusilla, you astound me, child.!” 
exclaimed the old gentleman, in unaffected astonishment. 

“ Yes, marry at once, dear uncle, and then, if you live to 
be as old as Methusaleh, you will still have only the longer 
time to witness their happiness,” persisted Drusilla, who, 
now that she had “ broken the ice,” was determined to go 
through. 

“ But, my dear, I put Richard Hammond upon a proba- 
tion of twelve months, and the time has not expired yet.” 

It is very nearly half gone, though. Five months of 
the allotted term has passed away. There are seven 
months of penance remaining. Dear uncle, be kind to 
them and commute that to one month. Let them marry in 
May.” 

Have they commissioned you to plead their cause, my 
dear? ” gravely inquired General Lyon. 

Oh no, sir, they have not. And perhaps also you may 
think me very presumptuous and impertinent to meddle in 
the matter. If you do, I will beg your pardon and be 
silent.” 

“Nonsense, my dear child ! I think nothing of the sort. 
Speak all your thoughts freely to me. They are good and 
true thoughts, I know, though they may not be very 
worldly wise. Come now, why should I shorten the proba- 
tion of Dick ? ” 

“ Oh, because he has behaved so well. Indeed, dear 
uncle, if you really mean that Dick should marry Anna, I 
think that you had just as well let him marry her now as 
half a year hence. I believe Dick is as good now as he 


90 


THE bride’s fate. 


will ever be, or as any young man can be. Why do yo*' 
insist on a probation ? If Dick were playing a part in this 
good behavior, lie could play it six months longer as well as 
he has played it six months past, for so great a stake as 
Anna’s hand. But he is not playing a part. You know 
as well as I do that Dick is as frank, sincere and open- 
hearted as his best friend or worst enem}” could desire him 
to be. He is not playing a part. His present steadiness 
is but an earnest of what his whole future life will be, with 
Anna by his side. Dear uncle, I really do think that all 
Dick’s irregularities grew out of his banishment fr-'m 
Anna’s society. He sought gay companions — or rather no; 
we are sure that he never sought them ; but he allowed 
himself to fall into their company to find oblivion for his 
regrets. With the mere promise of Anna’s hand, you see 
he has dropped his disreputable friends altogether. With 
Anna for his wife, he will never be in danger of taking 
them up again.” 

There is much reason in what you say, my dear,” 
admitted General Lyon. 

And, besides,” said Drusilla, dropping reason and re- 
sorting to sentiment, ‘‘it is such pity not to make them 
happy when you have the power to do it.” 

“ I will think of what you have advanced, my dear 
Drusilla,” said the veteran, gravely. “ But Lord bless my 
soul alive ! ” he added, elevating his eyebrows, “ now I do 
think of it, the young' man himself has not petitioned for a 
curtailment of his probation ! ” 

“ Oh, uncle, has he not ? Hot, not in set terms, perhaps, 
because you absolutely forbade him to resume the subject 
until the specified year should have terminated ; and of 
course he felt, and still feels, bound to obey you. But has 
not his whole conduct for the last five months been a plea 
for the commutation of his sentence ? Has not every 
word, look and act of his life here been a declaration of 


THE END OF PROBATION. 


91 


devotion to Anna, a prayer for mercy from you, and a 
promise of fidelity to both ? ” 

1 cannot deny that.” 

Then, dear uncle, let them marry at once. Oh, forgive 
my plain speech ! for you know you told me to speak my 
thoughts freely.” 

“ Certainly.” 

Then let them marry at once.” 

“ Is there no other reason you would like to urge why 
they should be made happy, as you express it, just now ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, dear sir ; if you make them wait until the 
lime of probation is out, it will bring the wedding to the 
middle of November — sad November, which is always 
gloomy enough in itself and is now doubly gloomy to us 
from its associations. Three times Anna’s marriage has 
been appointed to take place in November, and three times 
it has been defeated — twice by death, and once — but we 
will say no more of that. Let us change the month and 
even the season, dear sir. Let the marriage come off in 
May — this next May. It is now beautiful spring — the 
best season in the year for a wedding and a wedding 
tour. Let them marry and go ; and you and I, and little 
Leonard will stay here and have a good time this summer. 
In autumn they will return and join us again. And early 
in the winter we will all go up to Washington and live at 
Cedarwood during the season. Dear Uncle, I do think 
you had better let them get their wedding tour over this 
summer. You will miss Anna very much less in summer 
than in winter.” 

That is very true,” said the General, reflectively. 

“ And you will let them marry in May ? ” eagerly in- 
quired Drusilla. 

Ah ! I don’t know. I cannot move in the matter 
unless the young gentleman does. I cannot fling my 
grand-daughter at Mr. Dick Hammond’s head I ” 


92 


THE bride’s fate 


Oh, uncle ! how can you say such things? You know 
poor Dick is tongue-tied on that subject for the present, bj- 
your probation, as well as by his sense of honor. He 
not speak of this without your leave. But only give him 
leave by a glance, a nod, a hint, and he will be on his knees 
to you to grant his suit and shorten his probation,’^ said 
Drusilla. 

Hem ! Suppose you give the glance, nod, or hint, that 
may be required for the encouragement of this despairing 
lover ? proposed the General, archly. 

That I will, with all my heart and soul,’^ replied 
Drusilla, warmly. 

The next day at noon, while Drusilla was walking beside 
her baby’s carriage oat on the lawn, Dick, with his fishing 
rod over his back, sauntered up to her. 

Drusilla dropped behind so as to let the carriage and the 
nurse get far enough ahead to be out of hearing, and then 
she said : 

“ Dick, I think if you will ask our uncle to release you 
from your promise of silence on a certain subject, that he 
will do so.” 

Drusilla, do you really think he will ? If I thought 
so, if I was sure he would not banish me at once from 
Anna’s side, I would ask him this moment ! ” exclaimed 
Dick, his ej^es dancing with eagerness. 

“ He will not banish you. Wh}^ should he ? You will 
break no promise to him ; you will only ask him if he sees 
fit to release you from your promise of silence on a certain 
subject. I think he will give you leave to speak on that 
snbject. And, furthermore, when you do speak, I think he 
will listen to you favorably.” 

Oh, Drusilla ! do you ? Do you think so, indeed ? If 
I thought so, I should be the luckiest dog and the happiest 
man in existence.” 

“ Go try for yourself at once, Dick. He is in his study. 


THE END OF PROBATION. 


93 


He has just got through his morning papers, and is enjoy- 
ing his pipe. The opportunity is highly auspicious. Go at 
once, Dick. You will never find him in a more favorable 
mood.” 

I’m off this instant. Heaven bless you, Drusilla, and 
make you as happy as I hope to be,” exclaimed Eichard 
Hammond, dropping his fishing tackle, and dashing away 
to put his destiny to the test. 

Drusilla hastened after her baby’s carriage, overtook it, 
and continued to walk beside it, and guard it for more than 
an hour longer. 

She had just turned with it towards the hou»e when she 
was met by Dick, who was hastening to greet her. 

“ Oh, Drusa, Drusa, dear Drusa, it is all right now ! 
And all through you ! And I came to tell you so, and to 
thank you, even before I go to tell Anna ! ” exclaimed 
Dick, with his face all beaming with happiness. 

And he seized and kissed Drusilla’s hand, and then 
darted off again, in search of Anna. 

And thus through Drusilla’s invention, was Eichard 
Hammond’s probation commuted, and the marriage of the 
lovers appointed to be celebrated about the middle of Maj’. 

Meanwhile Drusilla had written to “ mammy,” offering 
to her the situation of housekeeper, and to her husband 
that of head gardener at Cedarwood. She had directed her 
letter to the care of the Eeverend Mr. Hopper, at Alexan- 
dria, feeling sure that it would by this means safely reach 
the hands of the nurse. 

In due time Drusilla received an answer, badly written 
and worse spelt, yet sufficiently expressive of mammy’s ” 
sentiments on the subject. 

She thanked Mrs. Lyon from the bottom of her heart, and 
would gladly take the f^ce and try to do her duty by the 
mistress. And likewise her old man. She never expected 
to have such a piece of good fortune come to her and her 


94 


THE bride’s fate. 


old man in the old ages of their lives. Which it had just 
come in^good time too, seeing as her last darter was agoing 
to marry and leave her and her old man alone. And be- 
sides, she herself was aged before her time, all along of 
spending, all the days of her life in close, sick rooms. And 
she was mortially glad to leave the profession of sick nus- 
sin’ to younger and stronger wimmin. Which she was 
fairly pining for the country, where her childhood and 
3'outh had been passed. She had never been able to get 
reconciled to the town, although she had lived into it for 
thirty-five years, and she loved to feed chickens and take 
care of cows, and make butter and cheese. And as for her 
old man, it was the delight of his life to hoe and rake, and 
plant and sow, and weed and trim gardens and vineyards, 
and sich like. And she was sure they would both be hap- 
pier than they had ever been in all their lives before. And 
she prayed Heaven to bless the young madam who had 
taken such kind thoughts of them in their age, to insure 
them so much prosperity and pleasure. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A MAY-DAY MARRIAGE. 


Be not amazed at life. ’Tis still 
The made of God with His elect: 

Their hopes exactly to fiilfll, 

In times and ways they least expect. 
Who marry as they choose, and choose 
Not as they ought, th^y mock the priest. 
And leaving out obedience, lose 

The finest fiavor of the feast.— Alford. 


The wedding-day of Dick and Anna was fixed for the 
fifteenth of May. • 

Then came consultations about the details of the fea- 
tival. 


A MAY-DAY MARRIAGE. 


95 


Should it he a festival ? 

Anna thought not. Her marriage had beei so often 
appointed and so often arrested that she said it /v^ould be 
best taste now to get it over as quietly as possible. She and 
her betrothed, attended only by General Lyon an^ Drusilla, 
would go to church and be married in their travelling- 
dresses, and start immediately on the wedding tour. Such 
was Anna’s plan. 

But General Lyon would not hear of such a thing. 
What ! marry off his grand-daughter and heiress to his 
nephew in such a semi-clandestine manner, as if he were 
half-ashamed of the proceeding? What, disappoint all the 
young people in the neighborhood, who had every right to 
expect a festival on the marriage of Miss Lyon, of Old 
Lyon Hall ? Hot while he was head of the family ! Anna 
should be married at home. And there should be such a 
celebration of the nuptials as the lads and lasses around 
the hall should remember to the latest da}’’ of their lives. 

Anna urged that in the middle of May the weather 
would be too warm for a ball. 

General Lyon agreed that it would ; but added that tho 
weather would be delightful for a festival in the open air 
on the beautiful grounds of the manor; it would be neither 
too warm nor too cold, but exactly right for dancing on the 
lawn. The marriage ceremony he said should be performed 
in the great drawing-room, the wedding breakfast should 
be laid in the long dining-room ; but the music and danc- 
ing should be enjoyed in the open air. ^ 

Anna laughingly appealed to Dick and to Drusilla to 
take her part against this decision of the general. 

But Drusilla and Dick declined to interfere and remained 
conscientiously neutral. 

So the will of the General carried the day. 

This obstinacy of the old gentleman made it necessary 
that a great deal of business should be done, and done at 


once, as the time was so short to the wedding-day. Wed- 
ding cards must be printed and circulated. A new trous- 
seau must be prepared. A sumptuous breakfast must be 
devised. Certain deeds must be executed. 

In furtherance of these works, Dick first went up to 
Richmond to deal with lawyers and engravers. 

And soon after his departure General Lyon and Anna 
went to Washington to negotiate with milliners and pastry 
cooks. 

And Drusilla and her attendants remained in charge of 
Old Lyon Hall. She had been affection atel}’’ invited to 
accompany Anna and the General, but, though her baby 
was now nearly six months old, she declined either to leave 
him at home or to take him on so long and rough a journey. 
She thought that her boy and herself were both better in 
the country. The General agreed with her, and so she was 
left in charge of the premises. 

But though she sadly missed her friendly Anna, and 
fatherly old general, and gay Dick, yet her life when left 
at Old Lyon Hall was very different from what it had been 
when she was alone at Cedarwood. 

Here in the old hall she was no longer lonesome and 
dreary. She had a plenty of company and of interesting 
employment. She had her darling boy and her attentive 
servants; and she had visitors from the neighborhood 
almost every day ; for young Mrs. Alexander Lyon was 
growing in favor with the whole neighborhood. 

Here she was not obliged to live a secret life. She would 
drive out in her carriage, with her baby and nurse, when- 
ever she pleased. She could ride out on horseback attend- 
ed by her young groom Leo, wherever she liked. She 
could return the calls of her country neighbors ; she could 
accept their invitations to dinner or to tea, and she could 
receive and entertain them at home. 

Here she enjoyed the largest liberty. General Lyon and 


A MAY-DAY MARRIAGE. 


97 


Anna had both assured her that she would only make them 
happier by behaving in all respects as a daughter of the 
h6use, and using it as if it were her own. And Drusilla, 
convinced of their perfect sinceritj^, took them at their 
word. 

Her sweet heart and social spirit took pleasure in this 
frequent intercourse with the country ladies and their little 
children. She liked to have a whole family, mother, chil- 
dren and nurses, to spend a long day with her at home ; 
and almost as well she liked to take her boy and nurse and 
go and pass a whole day at the country house of some 
friend. 

It was gratifying to her also, when her nearest neighbors, 
the Seymours, came over and spent an evening with her. 
There were but three persons in this family — old Colonel 
and Mrs. Seymour, and their youngest daughter Annie, or 
Nanny, as they called her. 

Old Colonel Seymour was a passionate lover of music, 
and it was the one grievance of his life that his daughter 
Nanny had no voice, and no ear, and never could learn to 
sing or play on the piano. He could never understand it, 
he said, how a girl born with the usual allowance of senses, 
with a quick pair of ears, and a nimble tongue, and who 
could hear as fast and talk much faster than anybody he 
ever saw, should pretend that she did not know one tune 
from another ! She that was neither deaf, nor dumb, nor 
an idiot ! It was an incomprehensible fact, but it was no 
less a great personal injury to himself. 

But his one great delight was to come over to Old Lyon 
Hall in the evening, and hear Drusilla sing and play. 
Now, we know that her greatest gift was music. She sang 
with a passion and power equalled by no one in private 
circles, and excelled by but few in professional life. Hon- 
est Colonel Seymour had never in all his earthly experience 
had the privilege of hearing a great public singer, ^here- 
6 


98 


THE bride’s fate. 


fore tlie performances of Drusilla affected, I might even 
say, overwhelmed him or transported him, with equal won- 
der and delight. 

And Drusilla exerted herself hour after hour, and eve- 
ning after evening, to please him, and took as much pleas- 
ure herself in the intense appreciation of her one single 
old adorer, as ever a great prima donna did in the applause 
of a whole world. 

And the honest old gentleman’s head was fairly turned 
with admiration and gratitude. 

“ To think,” he said, as he walked home with his wife 
and daughter, one moonlight night, after spending an eve- 
ning at old Lyon Hall, “ to think of having such a voice 
as that in the neighborhood ! to think of being able to hear 
it several times a week, for the asking ! Oh ! it ought, 
indeed it ought, to raise the price of real estate in this 
• locality ! And it would do it, too, if people really could 
feel what good music is ! ” 

“Papa,” laughed the old wife, “you are an old gander. 
And if you were not gray and bald, and very good, I should 
be jealous.” 

“ Oh, but mother, such strains ! Oh, my Heavens, such 
divine strains ! ” he exclaimed, catching his breath in 
ecstacy. 

“What will you do when your St. Cecilia leaves the 
neighborhood ? ” inquired his daughter. 

“ Leave the neighborhood ! is she going to do that ? ” 
gasped the music-maniac. 

“They are all going to Washington, next winter, she 
says.” 

“ Then we’ll — go too ! I say, mother, one season in town, 
would not be amiss for Nanny ; and so we can take her 
there next winter ; and then I may swim and soar in celes- 
tial sounds every evening ! ” 

“ Papa, now you are too provoking, and I am jealous,” 


A MA-Y-DAY MARRIAxJE. 


99 


tsaid Nanny. *^For my part, I don’t like music anymore 
than I do any other sort of racket. And I do think if 
there is one nuisance worse than another, it is a singing 
and playing lunatic, filling the whole room full of shrieks 
and crashes, just as if a thousand housemaids were smash- 
ing a million of dishes, and squalling together over the 
catastrophe ! 

“ Oh, child, child, what a misfortune for you to have been 
born deaf, as to your divine ears ! ” answered the old gen- 
tleman in tones of deep and sincere pity and regret. 

“ I’m sure, papa, I often wish I had been horn deaf as 
to my bodily ears ! I mean, when your divinity is shriek- 
ing and thrashing, and raising such a hullabaloo that I 
can’t hear myself speak ! ” said Nanny. 

Ah ! ^ that accounts for the milk in the cocoanut ! ’ 
You can’t hear yourself speak, and you prefer the sound 
of your own sweet voice to the music of the spheres ! ” 

If the music of the spheres is that sort of noise, I cer- 
tainly do, papa.” 

“ Thank Goodness, here we are at our own gate ! And 
now we will drop the subject of music for the rest of the 
evening — Kitty, was the missing turkey- gobbler found ? ” 
inquired Mrs. Seymcur of the girl who came to open the 
door.” 

Yes’m.” 

And did the maids finish their task of carding ? ” 
Yes’m.” 

“ And did you keep the fire up in my room ? ” 

Yes’m.” 

That is right. The evenings are real chilly and damp 
for the time of year. Come in.” 

“ And the careful wife and mother led the way into the 
house. 

Bichard Hammond was the first of the absentees to re- 
turn to Old Lyon Hall. He came one afternoon, bringing 


100 


THE BRIDE S FATE. 


with him a large packet of handsomely engraved wedding 
cards and a bundle of documents, all of which he placed in 
Drusilla’s charge to be delivered to General Lyon on the 
General’s arrival. Then he took leave of Drusilla, and 
went over to Hammond House to wait there until the 
return of his uncle and his betrothed. 

Two days afterwards, General Lyon and Anna came 
home. 

Anna was attended by a pair of dressmakers, and enriched 
with no end of finery. 

General Lyon was followed by a French cook and his 
apprentices. 

Eichard Hammond came over to meet them, and consult 
over the latest improvements of the bridal programme. 

And now the business of preparation was accelerated. 

First, the wedding cards were sent out far and near. And 
the neighborhood, which was not prepared for the surprise, 
was electrified. 

Next the dressmakers, with every skillful needle-woman 
among the housemaids to help them, were set to work on 
the trousseau. Of the many dresses that had been made 
up for Anna’s marriage, the last November, most had never 
been worn and w'ere now in their newest gloss ; but they 
were not trimmed in the newest fashion, nor were they all 
suitable for summer wear; so those first dresses had to be 
altered and newly trimmed, and many new dresses suitable 
for the season had to be made up. This kept all the femin- 
ine hands in the house very busy for a week. 

Drusilla’s skill, and taste, and willingness to help made 
her an invaluable assistant. 

Only a few days before the one set for the wedding was 
the new trousseau finished and packed up, and the new 
wedding dress and travelling dress completed and laid out. 

And now carpenters and upholsterers were brought down 
from town, and the house and grounds were fitted up and 
decorated for the happy occasion. 


A MAY-DAY MARRIAGE. 101 

The French cook and his assistants had the kitchen, the 
pantry, the cellar, the plate-closet, and the long dining-room, 
to themselves, and were up to their linen caps in business. 

“ Well, it is a notable blessing that one cannot be both- 
ered with this sort of thing very often, as one is not likely 
to be married more than half a dozen times in one’s life,” 
said Anna, who was, or affected to be, very much bored by 
all this bustle. 

^‘Oh, I hope to Heaven, Anna, we may neither of us 
ever be married but once ! I trust in the Lord, Anna, that 
we may live together to keep our golden w'edding-day half 
a century hence,” answered Dick, very devoutly. 

For honest Dick was what the Widow Bedot would have 
called very much ^‘solemnized” by the impending crisis in 
his fate. 

“ Blessed is the bride that the sun shines on.” The day 
of days came at last — the auspicious fifteenth of May — clear, 
bright, warm, genial, with a light breeze playing a lively 
tune, to which all the green leaves danced in glee. All the 
flowers bloomed to decorate the scene — all the birds turned 
out to sing their congratulations ! Never was seen such a 
rosery on the lawn ; never was heard such a concert in the 
groves. 

The brass band that arrived upon the scene as early as 
ten o’clock in the morning, was quite a superfluity. Anna 
sent out and ordered the men not to plaj’’ until the birds 
sliould be silent. So they sat under the shade of the 
great oak trees, and had ale served out to them, in which 
they drank the health of the bridegroom and the bride, 
while they watched the train of carriages that were con- 
stantly coming up, bringing guests to the wedding feast. 
Such was the scene on the shaded, flowery lawn. 

^ven more festive was the scene within the house. 

{ill the windows of the great drawing-room were thrown 
open, letting in all the sunshine and the cool breeze of this 


102 


THE BKIDe’s fate. 


bright May day. The walls were hung with festoons cf 
fragrant flowers, and the large table in the centre was 
loaded with the splendid wedding presents to the bride. 

It would take up too much time to tell of all these pres- 
ents. You will find them fully described in the Valley 
Courier ” of that date. They consisted of the usual sort 
of offerings for these occasions — sets ” of diamonds, eme- 
ralds, rubies, pearls and other gems ; “ sets ’’ of silver 
plate ; “ sets ’’ of fine lace, et cetera. 

But we must not omit to mention Drusilla’s munificent 
offering to the bride. It was also a ^^set,” a tea set of 
pure gold, whose exquisite workmanship was even of more 
value than its costly material. 

The appearance of the long dining-room, with the table 
laid for the wedding breakfast, should have immortalized 
the French cook if he had not been immortalized before. 
Here, also, all the windows were thrown open to the light 
and air. It would never do, said Monsieur le Chef,” for 
people to be too warm while eating and drinking. Here, 
however, were no natural flowers. Their powerful odors, 
said Monsieur,” affected too much the delicious aromas 
of the viands. But the walls were decorated with artificial 
flowers, with paintings and gildings, and with mirrors that 
multiplied the splendors of the scene a thousandfold, and 
opened imaginary vistas into unending suits of splendid 
saloons on every side. 

The breakfast table reached nearly the whole length of 
the long dining-room, and was multiplied by the mirrored 
walls into innumerable other tables on every hand. It' ^as 
beautifully decorated and sumptuously loaded ; every 
variety of flesh, fish, and fowl that was in season, dressed 
in the most delicate manner ; ever}’’ sort of rare and rich 
fruit and vegetable ; wonderful pastries, creams, and ilt-s ; 
crystallized sweetmeats, cordials, wines, liquors, black i! nd 
green teas, and coffeo such as only a Frenchman can make, 


A MAY-DAY MARRIAGE. 


103 


were among the good things displaj^ed to delight tht palates 
of the guests. 

On the second floor, the bed-chambers and dressing- 
rooms wore a gay and festive aspect. There also the win- 
dows were thrown open to the light and air, and shaded 
only by the beautiful green trees and flowering vines with- 
out. The beds and dressing-tables were freshly covered 
with snow-white drapery ; and on each toilet-table were 
laid new ivory-handled brushes and combs, silver flagons 
of rare perfumery, porcelain pots of pomade; and about 
each room were every convenience, comfort and luxury that 
a guest could possibly require, — all provided by a thought- 
ful hospitality that M'as careful and considerate in its 
minutest details. 

Early in the day these light, fragrant, and delightful 
chambers were filled with bevies of fair girls, w'ho were giv- 
ing the last effective touches to their own and to each 
other’s gay festal dresses, and whose soft talk and silvery 
laughter made music all around. 

They had need to hurry, too ; for the hour fixed for the 
ceremony was high noon, and they must all be ready and 
in their places to see it. 

The bride’s chamber was the scene of the most interest- 
ing passages. There sat the bride, surrounded by her 
bride’s-maids, and lovingly attended by Drusilla. 

Anna’s dress was a rich white honiton lace robe over a 
white silk skirt, made with a low bodice and short sleeves, 
both edged with narrow lace. On her neck and arms she 
wore a necklace and bracelets of diamonds ; on her hair 
the wreath of orange blossoms ; over her head and shoul- 
ders the deep bridal veil of lace to match her robe ; on her 
delicate hands kid gloves as white as snow and soft as 
down. Her six bride’s-maids were all dressed in white 
tulle, with wreaths of white moss-rose buds on theix hair, 
and veils of white tulle. 


104 


THE bride’s fate. 


On this auspicious day Drusilla, for the first time, 
entirely laid aside her mourning. She looked beautiful 
and blooming, in a dress of rose-colored moire-antique, 
made with a low bodice and short sleeves, trimmed with 
point lace. On her neck and arms she wore a necklace 
and bracelets of pearls; on her young matronly brow a 
wreath of half-open blush roses ; on her bosom a bouquet 
of the same flowers. 

For this day also her little Leonard was dressed in gala 
robes, and sent out upon the lawn in the arms of his nurse, 
where he remained for the present, gazing with eyes wide 
open with astonishment and delight on the wonderful 
pageantry around him. 

The marriage hour struck at length. 

The last loitering guests heard it, and hurried down 
stairs to the drawing-room which was already crowded. 

The bride and her maidens heard it, and began to 
smooth out the folds of their dresses, or touch the edges of 
their hair, and steal furtive glances at the mirrors to see 
that all was right before leaving the chamber and facing 
the hundreds of eyes in the drawing-room below. 

Punctually as the last stroke of twelve sounded, the 
bridegroom and his attendants came to the door. 

The procession was formed in the usual manner and 
passed down stairs. 

Two gentlemen friends who took upon themselves the 
office of marshals, opened a way through the crowd for the 
bridal cortege to enter. 

On the rug stood the Rev. Dr. Barbar, in his surplice, 
just as he had stood some six months before ; but all the 
rest was changed now. That was a dark and stormy Nov- 
ember night. This was a bright and beautiful May day. 

The bridal party, with due decorum, took their places 
before the officiating minister. There was no let or hin- 
drance now. The face of the blooming bride was as 


A MAY-DAY MARRIAGE. 


105 


clearly seen as that of the happy bridegroom. Both par- 
ties responded clearly and distinctly to the questions of the 
clergyman. General Lyon, with smiling lips, but moist 
eyes, gave the bride away. And the ceremony proceeded 
and ended amid the prayers and blessings of the whole 
company. 

Kisses and congratulations, tears and smiles followed 
and took up twice as much time as the preceding solemnity 
had. 

Then, at length the company, headed by the two mar- 
shals, marched otf to the breakfast room. The ladies were 
handed to the table, and the gentlemen waited in duteous 
attendance behind them. 

And the feast began. 

These ladies did not care so much about the fish, flesh, or 
fowl, delicately dressed as these edibles might be. So they 
were left almost untouched, for the benefit of the gentle- 
men who might come after. But the beautiful pyramids 
ot pound cake, the snowy alps of frosted cream, the glitter- 
ing glaciers of quivering jelly, the ice-bergs of frozen cus- 
tard, the temples of crystallized sweetmeats, and groves of 
sugared fruits were quickly demolished. 

The bride’s cake was cut up and distributed ; the piece 
containing the prophetic ring falling to the lot of Nanny 
Seymour. 

At the right moment the first groomsman arose and made 
a speech, which was heartily cheered, and proposed the 
health of — 

“ The bride and bridegroom,” which was honored with 
bumpers of “ Cliquot.” 

Then ‘ the bridegroom arose and returned thanks in 
another speech, which was also cheered ; and he proposed 
the health of — 

“ Our honored host and relative, the venerable General 
Lyon,” which was drank by all standing. 


106 


THE bride’s fate. 


Then the veteran got up and in a few earviest words 
expressed his appreciation of the compliment and his 
esteem for his guests, and then he gave somebody else’s 
health. 

Colonel Seymour arose and propose the health of — 

“ Our beautiful j^oung friend, Mrs. Alexander Lyon.” 
And it was honored with enthusiasm. 

Then some unlucky idiot had the mishap to rise and 
name — 

Mr. Alexander Lyon,” tearfully adding* — Though 
lost to sight, to memory dear.’ ” 

And a panic fell upon all that part of the company who 
knew or suspected the state of the case with that interest- 
ing absentee. 

But old General Lyon quickly dispelled the panic. 
Would that true gentleman suffer Drusilla’s feelings to be 
wounded ? Ko indeed. He was the very first to fill his 
glass and rise to his feet. His example was followed by all 
present. And unworthj'^ Alick’s health was drank with the 
rest. And while the brave old man honored the toast with 
his lips, he prayed in his heart for the prodigal’s reforma- 
tion and return. 

And oh ! how Drusilla understood and loved and thanked 
him ! 

Other speeches were made and other toasts drank. 

Then tea and coffee were handed around. 

And one set of feasters gave way to another, like the 
flies ill the fable of old. 

The rising set immediate!}’’ went out upon the lawn, 
where the brass band was in full play on their stand, and 
fhere quadrilles were performed upon the greensward. 

The feasting in the house and the music and dancing on 
the lawn was kept up the whole of that bright May day, 
even to the going down of the sun. 

Never before had the youth of the neighborhood had 


A MAY-DAY MARRIAGE. 107 

such a surfeit of frolicking. They voted that a marriage 
in May weather, and by daylight, with unlimited dance 
music, greensward, sunshine and sweetmeats, was the most 
delightful thing in the world. 

In the very height of the festivities, at about four o’clock 
in the afternoon, the bride, attended by Drusilla, slipped 
quietly away to her own chamber and changed her bridal 
robes and veil, for a travelling habit of silver gray Irish 
poplin, and a bonnet of graj" drawn silk. 

The travelling carriage had been quietlj’’ drawn up to the 
door where Richard Hammond waited to take away his 
bride, and General Lyon stood to bid farewell to his child. 

When Anna was ready to gO down, she turned and threw 
her arms around Drusilla’s neck and burst into tears. 

Oh, Drusa ! ” she sobbed, “ be good to my dear grand- 
father. Oh ! love him, Drusa, for my sake ! I was all he 
had left, and it must be so hard to give me up ! Oh, 
Drusa, love him and pet him. He is old and almost child- 
less. When I am gone, put little Leonard in his arms ; it 
will comfort him ; and stay with him as much as you can. 
It is so sad to be left alone in old age. But I know, my 
dear, you will do all you can to console him without my 
asking you.’’ 

Indeed I will, dear Anna,” said Drusilla, through her 
falling tears. 

^‘1 will not be gone long. I shall be back in three 
weeks at farthest. I do not like to leave him at his age. 
He is past seventy. His time may be short on earth. 
How can I tell ? That was the reason why I would not go 
to Europe for my wedding tour. But oh, Drusilla, I did 
not know how much I loved my dear grandfather until this 
day. And to think that in the course of nature I must 
lose him some da}", and may lose hiin soon,” said Anna, 
weeping afresh. 

My darling Anna, your grandfather is a very strong 


108 


THE bride’s fate. 


and hale old man ; his habits are regular and temperate, 
and his life quiet and wholesome. He is likely to live 
twenty or thirty years longer,’’ answered Drusilla, cheerily. 

“ Heaven grant it,” fervently breathed Anna. 

And then she turned and went down stairs, followed by 
Drusilla. 

“ Crood-bye, my darling. I will kiss you here. I must 
save the last one for my dear grandfather,” said Anna, em- 
bracing her friend at the foot of the stairs. 

Good-bye, and Heaven bless you ! ” responded Drusilla, 
heartily. 

Anna went forward to General Lyon, who took her in his 
arms, and smiling, kissed and blessed her. And his last 
words, as he gave her into the charge of her husband, were 
cheerful : 

*‘You will have a delightful run by moonlight up the 
bay, my dear,” he said. 

Anna, striving to keep back her tears, let Dick lead her 
to the carriage, and place her in it. He immediately fol- 
lowed, and seated himself by her side. Old Jacob cracked 
his whip, and the horses started. 

So quickly and quietly had this little scene passed, that 
the carriage was bowling along the avenue before the com- 
pany on the lawn suspected what was being done. 

Then, eager whispers of : 

“ The bride is going ! the bride is going! ” ran through 
the crowd. 

And quadrilles were suddenly broken up, and dancers 
came flocking to the door, knowing that they were too late 
to bid her good'b3^e, yet still exclaiming to each other : 

‘‘ The bride is going ! the bride is going ! ” 

The bride is yo?ie, mj^ dear, young friends,” said Gen- 
eral Lyon, kindly, “ but she leaves me to make her adieus, 
and to pray jmu not to let her departure interrupt your 
enjoyment. The bride and bridegroom have to meet the 


A MAY -DAY MARRIAGE. 109 

Washington steamer that passes the Storm}^ Petrel landing 
at about nine o’clock. Now, ^ on with the dance ! ’ ” 

And the young folks immediately took the old gentleman 
at his word, and the music struck up, and the dancing re- 
commenced. 

And so Anna and Dick departed for Washington city on 
their way to New York. 

Much discussion had been held on the subject of that 
marriage tour. Many suggestions had been made. Europe 
had been mentioned. But Anna had scouted that idea. 

^^None but a lunatic,’^ she had said, “ would ever think 
of taking a sea voyage, and risking sea-sickness in the 
honeymoon.” 

And for her part she positively declined putting Dick’s 
love to so severe a test in the earliest days of their married 
life. 

Such had been Anna’s outspoken objection to the trip to 
Europe. But her secret objection was that it would take 
her too far and keep her too long from her beloved and ven- 
erable grandfather. So at last it had been settled to the 
satisfaction of all parties that they should make a tour of 
the Northern cities. And now they had gone. 

But the wedding guests remained. The music and the 
dancing were kept up without flagging until the sun set, 
and the darkness and dampness of the night had come on. 

Then the two self-appointed “ marshals of the day ’’ took 
upon themselves to pay and discharge the brass band. 

The company soon followed the musicians, and old Lyon 
Hall was once more left to peace and quietness 


\ 


110 


THE bride’s PATB 


CHAPTEK X. 

■ general Lyon’s consolation. 

In this dim world of clouding cares 
We rarely know till wildered eyes 
See white wings lessening up the skies 
The angels with us unawares ! — Massey. 

After the last guests were gone, the house was very 
quiet. 

General Lyon went up to his study. 

Drusilla lingered a little while below to give orders to 
the servants. 

“ Close up all the rooms on this floor now. Disturb 
nothing until morning. I wish everything to be kept very 
still so that the General may rest and recover from the 
fatigue of this exciting day. Marcy, have the tea served 
in my sitting room. Leo, do you be up early in the morn- 
ing and see that the breakfast parlor — the little one — 
is made very tidy before we come down. The other rooms 
had best be left closed until the General goes for his daily 
ride. Then they can be restored to order.^’ 

Having thus given her directions to ensure the comfort 
of the old gentleman, Drusilla went up into the nursery 
where her little Leonard was laughing, crowing and scream 
ing in his nurse’s arms. 

“ I do think as he’s beside himself, ma’am,” said Pina. 

He’ll never get over this wedding as long as he lives. 
When I had him out in the lawn there, and the band was 
playing and the ladies and gentlemen were dancing, he 
jumped so as I could hardly keep him from leaping out of 
my arms.” 

He did enjoy it as much as any of us, didn’t he, 
Pina ? ” said the young mother, standing and smiling over 
the nurse and child. 


GENERAL LYOn’s CONSOLATION. Ill 

Oh, didn’t he though, ma’am ? Look at him now ! 
It’s in him yet ! And such a time I had bringing him in 
the house. He did not want to come in at all, even after 
the music went away. He didn’t cry, ma’am, but he made 
such signs, and then he fought. Ye.«», indeed he did, 
ma’am, he fought me in the face because I brought him 
in.” 

“ Why, Pina, I can hardly believe it ! ” 

But, you may, ma’am ! Oh, he’s got a will of his own, 
I do tell you ! I couldn’t make my peace with him until I 
had lighted all the wax candles in the place ! See what an 
illumination there is, ma’am ! Enough to blind any body 
but a boy baby. And such work to get him undressed. 
He wouldn’t have his finery off for ever so long. He 
wanted to dance in it. And then, after I had loosened it 
and got it off little by little with sheer conjuration, would 
you believe it, ma’am ? he wanted to dance in his sacred 
skin, like a North- American Indian ! I have got his night 
gown on at last ; though how I ever got it on with his 
prancing and dancing, goodness knows. But, as for his 
little red shoes. I’ll defy mortial man or woman to get them 
off his feet except by main force ! When I tr}' to do it he 
kicks so fast you would think there were nineteen pair of 
feet in nineteen pair of boots instead of one ! ” 

“ Lenny will let his mammy take off his boots,” said 
Drusilla, kneeling by the baby’s feet and making an essay. 

Lenny would let his mamma do a great many things to 
him, but he would by no means let her remove his red 
shoes. His little legs flew so fast in resistance that you 
could not have told one from the other. 

“ He means never to part with them, ma’am,” laughed 
Pina. 

We can take them off when he goes to sleep,” smiled 
Drusilla. 

“But there’s no sleep in his eyes, ma’am, nor won’t be 


112 


THE bride’s fate. 


for hours ! He’ll keep awake to watch his hoots and to 
dance ! Goodness gracious me ! My arms are almost 
pulled out of their sockets holding him while he dances.” 

I will take him presently, Pina, as soon as I change 
my dress,” said Drusilla. 

And she went and took off her wreath of roses, her neck- 
lace and bracelets of pearl, and her rich moire antique 
dress ; and she put on a neat white muslin wrapper, whose 
pure color and perfect fit became her well. 

Then she took her dancing babe ; but not to put' him to 
sleep just yet. Little Master Leonard had a duty to do 
before he could be put to bed. She carried him into the 
next room, which was her own pretty private parlor. 

The room was very inviting. A small, cheerful wood 
fire, very acceptable this chilly May evening, was blazing 
on the hearth. 

The tea-table with its snowy, damask cloth, its silver 
service and clear China, was standing before the fire place. 

A large easj^ chair, with a foot cushion was drawn up on 
the right side ; and Drusilla’s own little sewing chair was 
on the left. 

Marcy was in attendance. 

This is all quite right. Now do you wait here until I 
bring the General in, and then you can serve tea,” said 
Drusilla, as with' her baby in her arms she passed out into 
the hall and on towards General Lyon’s study. 

She opened the door. 

The little room was dark and chill, but the lights from 
the hall shone in, and revealed to her the form of the old 
man, seated at the writing table, with his arms folded on 
it, and his head bowed down upon them. It was an atti- 
tude of depression, of sleep or of death. 

Of death ! a dread pang seized her heart, and held her 
spell-bound in the doorway as she gazed on him. He had 
not heard her approach. He was not disturbed by the in- 
flow of light. He remained, indeed, as still as death ! 


GENERAL LYON’s CONSOLATION. 113 

She was afraid to stir, almost to breathe ! She had 
heard of old men men dying just so ! Oh, had not his own 
brother, his younger brother, died that w^ay not three years 
since ? — died sitting in his chair by his Christmas fire, sur- 
rounded by his whole family and friends ? died with noth- 
ing on earth to provoke death ? died from no excitement, 
no grief, no disease apparently ? 

And here was the elder brother, a man of like constitu- 
tion, who had been severely tried this day by the parting 
from his beloved and only surviving child, and now had 
come away to this chill, dark room, and had sat in solitude 
for an hour or more ! 

Drusilla’s conscience smote her terribly for what she 
called the false and fatal delicacy that had prevented her 
from following him immediately to his retreat. 

Oh ! if he should be dead, dead alone in this bleak room, 
she would never forgive herself, though she had done all for 
the best. 

All these thoughts and feelings flashed like lightning 
through her brain and heart in the moment that she stood 
panic-stricken in the door. 

Then full of awe, scarcely breathing, she crept near him, 
laid her hand upon his shoulder, and murmured softly ; 

« Uncle.’’ 

‘^My darling,” responded the old man, looking up with a 
smile. 

Thank Heaven ! ” fervently aspirated Drusilla. 

“What is the matter, my darling? What troubles 
you ? ” gently questioned the old gentleman, perceiving her 
alarm. 

“ I — I found you sitting here in the cold and dark, and I 
feared that something ailed you. Nothing does? ” 

“ Nothing, my child, except a little natural but unwise 
regret. Certainly, she had to marry. It is a woman’s 
destiny. And it is so well that in marrying she will not 
7 


114 


THE bride’s fate. 


have to leave me. Still, still I feel it, darliog. She waa 
all I had left in the world.” 

She will be back in three weeks, dear uncle ; back so 
soon that we shall scarcely have time to get the house set 
in order again for her reception. And now wdll you look at 
little Lenny ? He has come to bid you good-night, and to 
ask you to come and take tea with his maiuma,” said 
Drusilla, seating the boy on the old man’s knee. 

By no manner of baby-babble could little Leonard 
possibly bid his godfather good-night, or invite him to tea ; 
but he would put his little arms around the veteran’s neck, 
and press his lips to the veteran’s mouth, and laugh, and 
own his love and joy. 

‘‘ Ah ! may heaven forgive me for being so forgetful, so 
ungrateful as to say that I had no one but mj" Anna left 
me in the world, when I have little Lenny and his dear 
mother,” said the old man, pressing the child to his bosom, 
and drawing Drusilla to his side. But oh ! my dear, you 
know how it is — ^how it always has been, and always will 
be with poor human nature in all such cases. The 
shepherd of the scripture parable. He thought not of his 
ninetj'^ and nine sheep, safe in the fold, but he mourned for 
the one lost.” 

But Anna is not lost to you, dear uncle. She is only 
lost to sight, and that only for a little while. Think, dear 
uncle, in the marriage of Anna and Dick you have not lost 
a daughter, but gained a son.” 

That is true, my dear.” 

Think how devoted they are to you. They are as loyal 
to you as subjects to a sovereign.” 

I know — I know.” 

*<They will never leave you unless you send them away.’^ 

I know ; I see what a morbid old fellow I have been.” 

‘^No, no, not so, I think. Surely it is very natural that 
you should have such feelings ; but it is also very desirable 
that you should rally from them.” 


GENERAL LYON’s CONSOLATION. 115 


" And I will, my dear, I will.” 

Little Leonard, fatigued by his former exertions, and 
perhaps also a little awed by the solemnity of the dis- 
course, had remained still for at least three minutes. But 
' now he recommenced to prance and dance and express his 
impatience in every possible way that a baby of six months 
old could. 

You are almost too much for my stiff old arms, little 
fellow ! ” smiled the General, as he supported the leaping 
baby. 

“ Come, let us go to my room and have some tea,” said 
Drusilla, rising and leading the way, followed by the old 
man with the child over his shoulder. 

This is snug, this is cozy, this is really very comfortable 
indeed,” said the General, as he followed Drusilla into the 
pretty, cheerful sitting-room and saw the bright fire and 
the neat tea-table. 

‘‘Yes, this is pleasant after our day of excitement. Now 
kiss little Leonard good-night and let him go to sleep,” 
said Drusilla, as she rang her little silver hand-bell. 

Pina came in to take little Leonard, who leaped to meet 
her arms, for he was very fond of her. 

General Lyon pressed the babe to his bosom and kissed 
him fondly, and then handed him over to his nurse, who 
bore him off to the nursery. 

Then Marcy came in with the tea urn, 

Drusilla made tea for the old gentleman. 

The sound of Pina’s rocking-chair and cradle-song came 
soothingly to their ears, as to the child’s for which they 
were intended. 

“ This is very sweet and peaceful, dear, and I thank you 
for it all,” said the General, softly smiling. 

“ No, but, dear uncle, it is all your own ; and it is I W’ho 
•hould thank you for the happiness of sharing it,” quietly 
replied Drusilla. 


116 


THE bride’s fate. 


no, no,” said tlie General, shaking his head. 

Yes, yes, yes,” laughed the little lady. 

They lingered long over that quiet, pleasant tea ; and 
then, after she had rang for a servant, and had the table 
cleared, she went to the piano and sang and played to the 
old gentleman for an hour or more. 

She sang all her favorite comic songs, hut carefully 
eschewed the sentimental ones ; for she wished to raise his 
spirits and not to melt his heart. Towards the last of her 
singing he came and stood behind her ; and although he 
did not know enough of the notes to turn the pages for her 
at the proper moment, he stood and beat time to the music 
and sometimes joined in the chorus. 

At last, when she thought he had had enough, of it, she 
arose-'and closed the piano. 

Then, after an interval of a few minutes, she took her 
Bible and laid it on 4;he table.hefore him. 

He bowed his head, opened it and read a chapter aloud. 
And then they two joined in offering up their evening 
worship. 

Well, my darling,” said General Lyon, as he arose to 
hid her good-night, I have to thank you for much com- 
fort. This first evening that I dreaded so much has pass- 
ed off very pleasantly. God bless you, my child.” And so 
he withdrew from the room. 

Drusilla sat on for a little while gazing dreamily into 
the fire, and then she also retired to rest, drawing her sleep- 
ing infant to her bosom. 

Very earlj^ the next morning Drusilla arose, dressed and 
went down stairs, to make sure that one room at least of all 
that had been thrown into confusion by the wedding should 
now be in order for the General’s breakfast. 

She found that Leo had followed her directions, and the 
small breakfast parlor, that occupied an angle of the house 
and had windows opening to the east and south, was pre- 
pared for the morning meal. 


GENERAL LYOn’s CONSOLATION. 117 


And the doors of all the disordered rooms were closed. 

She went out and gathered a bouquet of early spring 
flowers and put them in a vase and placed them on the 
breakfast table. 

And then she plucked a few young buds of mint and 
made an exquisite julep, and sent it up by Leo to her un- 
cle’s room. 

Jacob, who had been sent at sunrise to the post-office, 
now returned. And Drusilla opened the mail-bag, which 
was found to contain nothing but newspapers, which she 
folded and laid by the side of her uncle’s plate. 

And then she sat down to await his coming. 

He came at last, smiling on her as he entered, and took 
his seat at the table. 

You are the angel of the house, my child,’^ he said— 

the angel of the house ! What should I do now but for 
you ! ” 

^^Dear uncle, what should I do without youT What 
should I have done that dreadful night but for your sus- 
taining arm ? All my puny efforts to serve you can never 
cancel that debt. I shall never forget that night,” earnestly 
answered Drusilla. 

I shall never forget that night, Drusilla, for it was then 
I received — ^ an angel unawares.’ ” 

She could not reply to these words, but blushed so in 
tensely that the old man forbore farther praise, and merely 
saying : 

But it does not become you and me to compliment one 
another, my darling.” He took up his newspaper. 

Upon the whole, this was a very cheerful breakfast. 
When it was over, the old gentleman ordered his horse, and 
went for his daily ride. 

Drusilla took advantage of his absence to set all the ser- 
vants briskly to work to open the closed rooms, and clear 
away the debris of yesterday’s great festival, so that by the 


118 THE BKIDe’s fate. 

time be should return the whole house should be restored to 
order. 

The abundant remains of the feast were distributed to 
the poor around. 

Moreover, she sent a note to the Seymours, asking them 
to come and spend the evening. And the messenger that 
carried it brought back their acceptance of the invitation. 

Drusilla and her uncle dined tete-a-tete. 

In the evening the Seymours came according to agree- 
ment ; and Drusilla gave them music. They staid till ten 
o’clock, and then took leave. 

No w'onder that old comrade of mine should go mad 
over your music, my darling. I am not a music-maniac 
myself, generally, hut I am always profoundly affected by 
yours,” said the General, when they were gone. 

Again Drusilla blushed deeply under the praise, hut then 
recovering herself with a light laugh, she answered : 

Why, you see, uncle, I think this is the way of it. You 
and the Colonel inspire me. Such appreciating hearers as 
yourself and your friend must necessarily inspire even 
the very poorest performer to do her very best.” 

“ Tut, tut, tut, my child ; you know better ! But, there, 
I will say no more on that subject ! Good night, my dar- 
ling,” he said. 

And so closed the first dreaded day of Anna’s absence. 
And all the succeeding days were quite as pleasant. 

Drusilla wmuld not let her old friend be lonesome. She 
planned visits for him and herself to his favorite houses ; 
and she invited his favorite friends to dinner or to tea. She 
often accompanied the old man on his morning rides, her 
gentle white mare ambling by the side of his steady old 
horse. She often invited him to take a seat in the open 
carriage when she went out in the afternoon to give her 
little boy an airing. 

And she played and sang indefatigahly to please Colonel 


A JOYOUS MEETING IN JUNE. 119 


Seymour, so that he might come over every evening, rain 
or shine,” to keep her uncle company. 

Anna’s and Dick’s letters came two or three in a week. 
They were not very long, for they were written en route ; 
but they were interesting and affectionate. They were 
filled with graphic sketches of their journey, and with 
warm expressions of tenderness for the “ dear ones at 
home,” and messages of kind regard to good friends around. 
The bride and groom were moving rapidly from point to 
point along the Canadian frontier, so that in answering them 
the General and his niece had to direct their letters a few 
stages in advance of the travellers. As, for instance, the 
answer of a letter post-marked Lewisburg, would be directed 
to Montreal. 

Til us, through one happy divertisement or another, but 
chiefly through Drusilla’s atfectionate solicitude the days 
of absence ” slipped imperceptibly away ; they had now 
brought the close of the last week of the honeymoon. The 
travellers were expected home on Saturday evening, and 
the house was in perfect order and beauty to receive the 
wedded pair. 


CHAPTER XI. 

A JOYOUS MEETING IN JUNE. 


June with its roses, June 
The gladdest month in the capricious year. 

With its thick foliage and its sunlight clear. 

And with a drowsy tune. 

Of the bright, leaping waters as they pass 

Laughingly on amid the springing grass. — W. H. BunLEiGS. 


Anna and Dick returned rather sooner than they were 
expected ; but not sooner than Old Lyon Hall was ready, 
and its inmates anxious to receive them. - 

On Saturday morning, while General Lyon, Drusilla, and 


120 


THE BRIDE S FATE. 


little Leonard with his nurse, were all out on the lawn en 
joying the splendor of the early J une day, before breakfast, 
the wagon from the Foaming Tankard was seen approach- 
ing the house. 

What can that mean ? ’’ inquired the old gentleman, 
looking at it, as it rumbled on towards the house. 

“Perhaps Anna and Dick to disencumber themselves, 
have sent the luggage on in advance,” suggested Drusilla. 

“ But, as they are to come down by to-day’s boat, that 
would scarcely be worth while,” reflected the old gentleman. 

While they were discussing the question, the wagon, 
instead of going round to the servants’ entrance as it 
would have done had it contained only luggage, rattled up 
to the front of the house. 

And the instant it stopped, Anna jumped out, and ran to 
her grandfather, who caught her in his arms. 

“ My darling daughter, — my darling, darling daughter, 
I am so delighted to see you,” he exclaimed over and over 
again, as he pressed her to his heart, while she answered 
him only with smiles and kisses, and both forgot that any- 
body else was waiting to he noticed. 

Meanwhile, Dick was shaking hands with Drusilla, and 
chirping to little Leonard, and pulling rattles and whistles 
and dancing jacks out of his pocket, and in his eagerness 
doing everything at the same time. 

“ Let me look in your face, dear child,” said the old man, 
taking the bride’s head between his hands, and gazing 
wistfully into her tearful but laughing eyes j “ are you 
happy, my Anna ? ” 

“Yes, dear grand-pa,” said Anna, earnestly, as her eyes 
overflowed. 

“ Quite happy ? ” anxiously persisted the veteran. 

“Well — no,” answered Anna, laughing, and making a 
face, “perfect bliss is not the boon of mortals, I believe. 
And, to tell the truth, I have a com that troubles me, to 


A JOYOUS MEETING IN JUNE. 121 


say nothing of the slightest possible twinge of neuralgia 
caught on the boat last night — moon-gazing.’^ 

Oh, you came on the night boat ? ” 

“ Yes ; our first plan was to stop in the city last night, 
but we remembered our pleasant trip on the water by moon- 
light wdien we 'left here four weeks ago, and as tlie moon was 
full, we thought we would come down again by moonlight, 
and then, too, we thought it would be so much pleasanter 
to reach home this morning, in time to breakfast wdth you, 
and have the whole day before us for reunion, than to get 
here late to-night, too tired to walk or do anything else 
but get supper and go to bed. Don’t you agree with me 
that it was best to come home now, — just now ?” 

Yes, my darling, that I do,” answered the General, 
heartily ; “ but I am sorry you have got neuralgia.” 

Anna looked at him, quizzically. 

‘‘I am not quite sure that I have got it, or ever had it; 
but I am quite certain about the corn. Now ain’t you 
going to speak to Dick ? ” 

“ Dick ! Certainly ; how do you do, my dear boy ? A 
hundred welcomes home ! ” exclaimed the General, releas- 
ing Anna from his embrace, and turning to greet the “ un- 
lucky dog.” 

Dick was then in the act of tossing his godson high in 
his arms, until he made him laugh and crow aloud, and 
then looking him solemnly in the face, and saying: 

“ I am jmur godfather, sir. Treat me with more respect, 
and don’t be taking me for your equals ! ” 

Now he turned his bright face, and held out his eager 
hand to receive his uncle’s clasp, saying : 

I am very glad to get home, sir, and gladder still to see 
you.” 

Anna had gone to embrace Drusilla. 

How happy I am to see you again ! ” she said. 

And I you,” answered Drusa, smiling. 


122 


THE bride’s fate. 


How wen you are looking, dear ! ” exclaimed eacb to 
the other, speaking simultaneously. 

And now, Dick, give me little Leonard ; I want to look 
at him ! Kememher, sir, if you are his godfather, I am 
his godmother, and have my rights. Don^t be trying to 
exercise man’s usurped prerogative by ‘claiming the 
child,’ ” said Anna, holding out her hands for the boy. 

“ I shall never attempt to assert man’s prerogative 
against woman’s rights,” laughed Dick, placing the child in 
her arms, and then going to pay and dismiss the wagon, 
which was now unloaded of all the luggage it had brought, 
and was ready to go. 

“Bless my soul! Anna, my dear, how came you to 
return by such a very rude and primitive conveyance as 
that ? ” inquired the General, as the great old wagon rat- 
tled and rumbled past on its way back. 

“ Couldn’t get any other, dear grand-pa ! The ‘ Foam- 
ing Tankard’ don’t boast a carriage of any description 
except this.” 

“ If I had only known, I could have sent the coach to 
meet you. I should have sent it anyway this afternoon.” 

“ But you wouldn’t have had me to wait till the after- 
noon for it, dear grandpa ? ” laughed Anna. 

“ Oh, no, no, no I by no means ! Only, if I had but 
known, I could have so easily sent it. Such a conveyance 
for a lady to come in!” exclaimed the old gentleman, as 
he gazed after the retreating wagon that rather jumped and 
bounced along than rolled. 

“ It was delightful ! It was better than a hard trotting- 
horse ! I liked to be tossed as much as Master Leonard 
himself does ! It has given me such a shaking up and 
such an appetite for breakfast as I never had before ! I 
am famished, grand-pa ! ” 

“Oh, exactly! exactly! so you must be! Drusa! 
Drusa, my dear ! ” exclaimed the old gentleman, looking 
around for his young volunteer housekeeper. 


A JOYOUS MEETING IN JUNE. 123 


But Drusilla had already vanished within to give her 
orders. 

‘^And now, dear grand-pa, 1 will go to my room to 
change my dress. I presume it is ready for me, and I 
know where to find it. Dick, see that the luggage is sent 
*up,” said Anna, turning to go into the house. 

But she was met at the door by all the household ser- 
vants, who had learned her arrival from Drusilla and had 
come out to welcome her. 

Hands were shaken and good-wishes heartily offered and 
warmly received, and then Anna passed on to her apart- 
ment. 

In less than half an hour she hurried down stairs, look- 
ing fresh and blooming in her white muslin dress with blue 
ribbons. 

“ The family were waiting for her in the breakfast room, 
and as soon as she entered she was greeted again and seated 
in the pleasantest seat at the table. 

All the windows were open, and all the brightness, 
beauty, fragrance, and music of June filled the place. The 
morning sunshine played upon every polislied point ; the 
fresh breeze danced with every fold of drapery ; the aroma 
of the clove pink, the cape jessamine, the tea rose, the 
clematis, and the heliotrope perfumed the air. Humming- 
birds flitted about like winged flowers. And the song of 
the thrush in the sweet-briar bush was echoed by the mock- 
ing-bird from the acacia tree ! 

What a beautiful morning 1 And what a beautiful 
scene ! In all our travels, grand-pa, we did not see so 
sweet an old home as this ! ” said Anna enthusiastically. 

I am glad you think so, my dear ; but great allowance 
must be made for your natural attachment to your birth- 
place,” smiled the General, as he sipped his^coffee. 

“ Now, Drusilla, what do you say? ” inquired Anna, ap- 
pealing to her friend. ” 


124 


THE bride’s fate. 


I have not seen very much of the world to compare 
this with other places ; but still, I think you are right, 
Anna. It is a ^ sweet old home.’ It is perfectly beautiful, 
and besides it seems to me that every one who was ever 
born here, or ever lived and died here, must have been very 
good and loving, that their spirits still pervade the place^ 
and make it holy,” said Drusilla, warmly. 

My dear, you will make me so much in love with my 
home that I shall not like to grow old and die and leave 
it,” said the General, smiling. 

“ Dear uncle, please to believe that there is not the 
slightest necessity for you to grow old, much less to die 
before your century is completed. And if you do so I shall 
think that you will be treating your loving children very 
badly,” said Drusilla. 

“ My dear ! ” 

Yes, I do, I think the deaths of most people who die, 
come of their indifference to the power that the Lord has 
given them of living on. How, I think that you have the 
power to live on in the full possession of all j^our faculties 
to the age of one hundred years at the very least, and how 
much longer I don’t know. And I shall take it very hard 
of you, if 3"ou don’t do it, uncle.” 

“ Hem ; I shall try to oblige you my dear,” said the 
General, dryly. 

I hope you will ! for you know I expect you to live to 
see your namesake, Leonard Lyon, junior, a bishop, a judge 
or a general, (which ever he shall please to be, for it will 
depend upon his choice of a profession,) or even President 
of the United states. The highest position is open to com- 
petition and you cannot tell what he may be yet j you must 
live to see.” ♦ 

“ Do you intend to live your centurj’’ out, Drusilla ? ” 

“ If it please Providence, yes ; for I shall try to preserve 
the gift of life he has given me. And when I ^hall be a 


A JOYOUS MEETING IN JUNE. 125 


hundred jears old, my little Leonard will be eigbty-four, 
and a wigged chief-justice, or a mitred archbishop or some- 
thing equally exalted. And I should not wonder if you 
should be alive and merry then.’^ 

Oh, tut, tut, tut ! you are laughing at me, little 
Drusa ! 

“ Heaven forbid ! People enough have lived to be a hun- 
dred and forty. Henry Jenkins lived to be a hundred and 
sixty-nine, and even then he did not die from old age, or 
from disease, but from sheer imprudence, I might say acci- 
dent, such as would have killed any man at any age.” 

‘‘My dear niece, that case was a highly exceptional 
one.” 

“ Well, and why shouldn’t you make your own case a 
highly exceptional one ? ” 

“ My dear, you are extravagant.” 

“Well, maybe I am, in talking about a hundred and 
sixty-nine years ; but I do positively insist upon your liv- 
ing a full century. That is only fair.” 

“ My darling, our prayers should be not so much for a 
long life as for a good life.” 

“ I stand corrected,” said Drusilla, reverently ; “ but for 
all that I insist upon the century ; for I think it was the 
Lord’s design that man should live so long.” 

“ Let me live so long as my life can be of use to others 
and no longer,” said the veteran. 

“ Your life is of use to others as long as it gives happi- 
ness to others, and therefore I insist upon the century,” 
persisted Drusilla. 

“ Well, my dear, I have no particular objection,” laughed 
the General, as they all arose from the table. 

Then came the healthful walk around the grounds, the 
General with his darling grand-daughter hanging on his 
arm, and Dick and Drusilla, and the nurse with the baby, 
sauntering along promiscuously. 


126 


THE bride’s fate. 


During tliis walk Anna gave her grandfather a very 
sprightly and entertaining description of her journey; and 
in return he told her how he and Drusilla had passed their 
time at home. 

Dick amused Drusilla with spirited sketches of travel. 

When the windings of their walk brought them around 
home again, Dick proposed a drive through the forest to 
Hammond House to see the progress of the w'orks there 
that must, he thought, be now near their completion. 

And as all assented to the proposition, the General 
ordered the large six-seated family carriage ; and the whole 
party, including little Leonard and his nurse, started for a 
long drive through the summer woods to Hammond House. 

It was but twelve o’clock noon when they reached the 
house — an old mansion standing upon a high headland at 
the junction of Wild Diver with the Upper Potomac. 

The woods grew up to the very garden wall and clustered 
thick about it. 

There were mountain brooks in the neighborhood, run- 
ning down to the Wild Diver and swelling its stream before 
it fell into the Potomac. 

The trout fisheries there were considered very fine in 
their season. And it was a part of the family programme 
for coming years to spend the fishing season at Hammond. 

It was now the beginning of the trout fishing season, 
and so the General and Dick, having seen Drusilla and 
Anna safely in the house, procured fishing tackle from 
Byles, the overseer, and went down to one of the bright, 
gravelly-bedded streams to fish. 

Anna and Drusilla, with the babe and nurse, were taken 
by Mrs. Byles to a clean and airy bedroom, where they laM 
off their bonnets and sat down to rest. 

The house was not yet in order ; nor could it be said to 
be in disorder — the papering, painting, glazing and gilding ; 
were all completed; but the handsome new furniture re- 


A JOYOUS MEETING IN JUNE. 127 

mained in its packing cases, and encumbered halls and 
passages. 

Overseer Byles and his wife occupied rooms in a wing of 
the building during the progress of the repairs ; but they 
were to move to a neighboring cottage as soon as the house 
should be ready to receive the family. 

Our party spent a very pleasant day at Hammond 
House. 

Hrusilla and Anna, with the baby and the nurse, wan- 
dered about the grounds and along the banks of the river 
until they were tired, and then they sat down under the 
trees to rest and to talk. 

About two o’clock General Lyon and Dick returned from 
the trout stream well laden wuth spoil. 

They gave the fish to Mrs. Byles, with a request that she 
would have them dressed for their dinner, and have the 
table set out in the open air between three broad oak trees 
where the shade was thickest. 

At four o’clock they were called to dinner — a sylvan 
repast served al fresco. 

There were trout, roast lamb with mint sauce, and green 
peas, potatoes and lettuce, and for dessert cherries, straw- 
berries and ice-cream. That was all. 

^^But if I had known in time that you were coming, 
ladies and gentlemen, I w^ould have got up something more 
acceptable,” said the housekeeper, apologetically. 

“ I defy you to have done that, Mrs. Byles. Your dinner 
is excellent,’^ replied the General. And all the other 
members of the party agreed with him, and proved their * 
sincerity upon the edibles set before them. 

Immediately aftei dinner they were served with excellent 
coffee and tea. 

Then the General ordered the carriage for their return 
home. 

After another pleasant ride through the forest, they 
reached Old Lyon Hall at sunset. 


128 


THE bride’s fate. 


*^We liave had a delightful day at your other home, 
Dick,” said the General, heartily. 

Our other home, sir, if you please ; for if Anna and 
myself are to be at home at Old Lyon Hall during one 
period of the ^’^ear, you and Drusilla must be at home at 
Hammond House during another part,’’ said Dick. 

‘‘And when you wish to spend a winter in Washington 
you must all be at home with me at Cedarwood,” added 
Drusilla. 

“ Agreed ! agreed ! ” said General Lyon, Anna and Dick 
in a breath. 

After tea that evening they were pleasantly surprised by 
a visit from the Seymours. 

It seems the old gentleman had got news of Anna’s 
arrival and had come over with his wife and daughter, 
ostensibly to welcome home the bride and -bridegroom ; but 
really too glad of a good excuse to hear Drusilla sing and 
play. 

The}’’ spent a long evening ; and Drusilla gratified her 
old admirer with some very choice music, in which she was 
ably assisted by Anna and Dick — Anna singing second and 
Dick bass. 

Early in the next week Mr. and Mrs. Hammond issued 
cards for a reception on the following Monday. And when 
the appointed day came they received their “ dear five 
hundred friends ” a-nd had a crowded house with the coming 
and going of visitors from ten in the morning until four in 
the afternoon. 

And this reception was the signal for a round of enter- 
tainments given to the newly married pair. 

The first of a series was a ball at Colonel Seymour’s, 
which was duly honored by all the family from Old Lyon 
Hall, including Drusilla, of course. 

Then there was an evening party with music, but not 
dancing, at the Reverend Dr. Barbar’s. 


A JOYOUS MEETING IN JUNE. 129 


Even the struggling medical practitioner at Saul&burg 
gave a tea-drinking. ^ 

And these neighborhood festivities in honor of the bride 
were kept up in good old-fashioned country'’ style for a 
month or six weeks. 

On the first of July, Hammond House being quite ready 
for occupation, the whole family from Old Lyon Hall went 
there to spend a few weeks that the General might indulge 
in his favorite pastime of trout-fishing. 

Here they remained until the first of September, when 
the near neighborhood of fresh water streams being con- 
sidered unwholesome, they returned to Old Lyon Hall. 

‘^And now,’^ said Drusilla, when they were once more 
settled, now it is my turn. Our next migration must be 
to Cedarwood.” 

Are you so anxious to leave the ^ sweet old home ? * 
inquired General Lyon, a little reproachfully. 

Oh, no indeed. Only when we do go, we must go to 
Cedarwood.” 

Agreed,’^ said the General, *'we will go there next 
winter.’^ 

And so the matter was settled ; for though all his young 
people were grown up and married, yet the word of the 
veteran soldier was law in the family circle. 

During all this time Drusilla had not heard from Alex- 
ander or even expected to hear from him. She did not 
grieve after him. In the sweet old home,” in the love of 
her dear friends and in the caresses of her darling boy, she 
was almost as happy as it is given a mortal to be. But 
though she did not mourn over his absence, neither did she 
lose her interest in his welfare. She took the principal 
London and Paris papers upon the bare possibility of 
gaining intelligence of his movements. 

Once she found his name in the list of visitors presented 

8 


130 


THE bride's fate. 


to the Queen at one of her Majesty's drawing-rooms, pub* 
wished in the Court Journal.” 

On another occasion she saw him announced as one of 
the speakers at a public meeting at Exeter Hall, noticed in 
the “ Morning Chronicle.” 

Again, he was named as the owner of the winning horse 
at certain world-renowned races, reported in “ Bell’s Life.” 

That was all she knew about him. 

Every week Drusilla received mis-spelled letters from her 
steward or housekeeper at Cedarwood. 

“ Mammy,” chiefly discoursed of cows and calves, hens 
and chickens, and ducks and geese. 

Mammy’s “ old man ” treated of the condition of the 
craps,” the health of the “bosses,” oxen, sheep, pigs, 
and so forth. 

And Drusilla having been a pupil of that famous agricul- 
turist, the late Mrs. Judge Lyon, was well able to give in- 
structions to her farm-managers. 

Thus, busily and happily passed the days of the little 
lady, until events occurred again to change the current of 
her life. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE MAIL-BAG. 

Kewspaper! who has never felt the pleasure that it brings f 
It always tells us of so many strange and wondrous things. 

It makes us weep at tales of woe, it fills our hearts with mirth. 

It tells us of the price of stock, and what produce is worth ; 

And when and where, and why, and how strange things occur on ear&Cu 
Has war’s loud clarion called to arms ? Has lightning struck a tree t 
Has Jenkins broke his leg ? Or has there been a storm at sea? 

Has the sea-serpent shewn his head ? A comet’s tail been seen ? 

Or has some heiress with her groom gone off to Gretna Green ? 

All this and many marvels more you from this sheet may glean, 

— J T. Watsok. 

The autumn passed away as pleasantly as the summer. 
The time drew near wdien the family from old Lyon Hall 
were to go to Washington for the season. 


THE MAIL-BAG. 


131 


Drusilla wrote to her housekeeper and steward at Cedar- 
wood, giving them full instructions to prepare the cottage 
for the reception of herself and friends, and she enclosed 
an order on her banker for the necessary funds. 

In due time she received a communication from mammy 
informing her that all things were now ready for the 
party. 

Then she consulted her relatives, and together they fixed 
upon a early day in January for the migration of the fam- 
ily. The General did not wish to move before that time, as 
he always preferred to spend his Christmas and New Year’s 
holidays at old Lyon Hall. 

Drusilla wrote again, and told her servants on what day 
to expect herself and her party. 

But a very severe fall of snow, coming about the first of 
January, blocked up the country roads, impeded travel and 
delayed their journey, and also kept back the mails, so that 
for many days after the one appointed for their removal, the 
family remained at old Lyon Hall, cut off from communica- 
tion with the rest of the world. 

When at last there came a change of weather, and the 
snow melted and sunk into the earth, or was exhaled into 
the air, and the roads though muddy were passable, a mes- 
senger was sent to the post-office at Saulsburg to fetch the 
letters and papers. 

He returned in the afternoon with a mail-bag well stuffed. 
He brought it into the small parlor, where the domestic 
circle was gathered. 

Only those who have been under like circumstances long 
debarred from news, can realize the avidity with which that 
bag was seized and unlocked, and its contents turned out 
upon the centre table around which the whole family party 
immediately clustered. 

There were several unimportant letters for everybody, 
which were, however, read with the greatest interest by 
these weather-bound recluses. 


132 


THE bride’s fate. 


And there was one which immediately fixed Drusilla’s 
attention. It was from Cedarwood, and dated a few days 
hack. Mammy was the writer, and after dilating upon the 
complete readiness of the cottage to receive the expected 
company, she wrote : 

And so we shall be a lookin^ out for you on the fifth, 
ma’am. And now, I don’t no as there’s enny dainger, but 
before you brings yung Marster Lennud inter this enfected 
nayberhood, I deems it my duty to tell you as how the mil- 
lignant skarlit fever is a ragin’ here, and a karryin’ off duz- 
zins. All the childun at the Drovur’s Kest have got it ; 
and likewise them that lives right across the road, opperside 
the gate as goes inter our place. But tho’ I deems it my 
duty for to tell you of this, I doo not no as there is enny 
dainger, as in coorse yung Marster Lennud woudent be 
going amung them.” 

Danger ? Drusilla grew sick and turned pale at the very 
thought. 

“ What is the matter, my dear ? ” inquired General Lyon, 
looking up from his paper, and noticing her disturbance. 

She silently handed him the letter. He read it attentive- 
ly, and then looking over his spectacles, said : 

Of course, then, we must not think of going. Scarlet 
fever ! bless my life and soul ! Let us stay where we are.” 

“What is it, dear grand-pa?” inquired Anna, looking 
up from her letter, while Dick laid down his paper to listen. 

“ Scarlet fever, my love, raging around Cedarwood, and 
slaying as many as King Herod himself. Of course, we 
can’t think of such a thing as going there. What, expose 
little Leonard to such an infection? Supposfe he was to 
catch the fever ? and — the very idea makes me shudder ! 
We’ll stay home ; we’ll stay home, my children ! ” said the 
old man, emphatically, settling himself once more to his 
newspaper. 


THE MAIL-BAO. 


133 


And, indeed, he was not sorry to have a good excuse for 
relinquishing the journey to Washington, which at this 
inclement season of the year could have no attraction for 
him. 

But if the ladies wish to go to the city, we can take 
apartments at one of the hotels,” suggested Dick. 

General Lyon looked uneasy. He did not wish to go to 
Washington on any terms in such bad weather. He would 
have gone to Cedarwood, only to keep his word with Dru- 
silla; but missing that, he did not want to go to a hotel. 
And now: he was afraid of being outvoted. 

Anna, however, came to his relief. 

^^Take apartments? Ho, I thank you, Dick! We 
would all like to go to Cedarwood and see Drusilla’s 
* pretty little w'ild-w’ood home ’ so near the city ; but, if 
w’e cannot go there, we will not pen ourselves up in a 
crowded hotel or boarding-house.” 

Ho ; that we won’t ! ” put in the General. 

And I’m sure Drusilla thinks with us,” added Anna. 

Indeed I do,” acknowledged Drusa. 

So you see you are outvoted, my dear boy,” chuckled 
the General. 

Oh, as to myself,” said Dick, “ I know w’hen I’m well 
oif, and I had a great deal rather stay here. It was for 
the ladies’ sake I spoke.” 

Then here we stay for the present, my children.” 

And so I must write and tell my housekeeper that she 
must cover up the furniture and close the rooms for tlie 
winter, as we are not going to Washington this season. 
But, my dear uncle, I hope we shall go early in the 
spring.” 

We shall go on the very first favorable opportunity, 
my dear, you may rely on that,” answered the veteran. 

And then the sight of Drusilla’s unopened packet of 
foreign letters suggested a plan that he immediately pro- 
posed. 


134 


THE BRIDES FATE 


And I’ll tell you what, my dears,” he said, " we have 
none of us seen Europe yet. Anna and Dick were to have 
gone there for a wedding tour, but they would not go so far 
away from the old man.” 

‘‘We should not have enjoyed the trip, dear grand-pa, if 
you had not been with us. Neither I nor Dick cared to 
go to Europe until we could all go to together.” 

“ Then, please Providence, we will all go together next 
spring,” said the General, looking around upon his young 
people. “ What do you say, Anna ? ” 

“ We shall both be delighted,” answered Anna for her- 
self and her husband, who immediately endorsed her reply. 

“ And you, Drusilla, shall you like to go to Europe ? ” 
inquired the General. 

“ Of all things ! I have so long wished to see the old 
historical world ! ” she answered, pausing in her work of 
opening her foreign packet. 

And then, for a little while, sitting around the table, 
they were all engaged in looking over the newspapers, each 
occasionally reading aloud to the others, who suspended 
their own employment to hear any little item of news sup- 
posed to be interesting. 

“ I declare there is nothing in our papers. Anything in 
yours, dear ? ” inquired Anna of Drusilla, who had been 
the only silent reader of the party. 

“ Not much of interest to us, over here. We do not care 
about the doings in Parliament, or the trials at the Old 
Bailey, or the meetings at Exeter Hall, or the murders in 
Bermondsey, or even about the movements of royalty and 
nobility.” 

“ Oh, yes, we do care about that last item. We are 
intensely democratic and republican here, and so of course 
we are breathlessly anxious to know where ‘ Majesty,’ took 
an airing, what ‘ Koyal Highness ’ wore to the opera, and 
whom ‘ Grace ’ entertained at dinner ! ” laughed Anna. 


THE MAIL-BAG. 135 

** Then read for yourself, my dear,” answered Drusilla, 
passing the Times.” 

** And to yourself also, my child. We are not interested 
in those high themes,” added the General, who was deep 
in a senatorial debate. 

And Anna did read to herself for some time, hut at 
length she exclaimed: 

‘‘Well, here is an item in which I think you will be 
interested, all of you.” 

Drusilla started and looked up anxiously. She thought 
that Anna had come upon some news of Alexander, and 
she wondered how she herself could have overlooked such a 
matter. 

Even the General laid down his paper to listen. 

“Well, what is it, dear?” inquired Dick. 

Anna read : 

The Barony of Killchrichtoun, so long in abeyance, has been 
claimed by a young American gentleman in right of his mother. 
The barony, it will be remembered, is notamale feoflf only; but, 
failing male heirs, descends in the female line. The right of the 
new claimant is said to be indisputable. He is the great great 
grandson and only living descendant of George-Duncan-Bertie- 
Bruce, the tenth and last Baron of Killchrichtoun.” 

“ Oh, I saw that” said Drusilla, with a look of disap- 
pointment. 

“Who is he ? ” inquired General Lyon, indiflhrently. 

“ Does not say,” answered the reader. 

“ Some poor devil of an adventurer making a donkey of 
himself, I suppose,” said Dick. 

“ Come, I won’t read you any more sensational news if 
that is the way you treat, it,” said Anna. 

And the subject was dropped and forgotten. 

The family circle then separated, each retiring to his or 
her own room, to fill up the time till the dinner hour with 
answering letters. 


186 


THE bride’s fate. 


CHAPTER XIIL 

OLD AND NEW. 

One In stories of the past, 

One in glories still to last, 

One in speech and one in face. 

One in honest pride of race. 

One in faith and hope and grace. — M. F. TvrtMM. 

Let us go very early in the spring. If we stop heio 
until the season begins to put forth all its beauty, I shall 
never be able to leave this ‘ sweet old home,^ as Drusa calls 
it.” 

Thus spoke General Lyon one morning in March, when 
the family were assembled at breakfast, discussing the sub- 
ject of their trip to Europe. 

Then as this is the fifteenth, and the spring is held to 
commence about the twenty-first, we had better begin to 
see about our voyage at once. Ho you wish to start as 
earl}’^ as the first of April ? ” inquired Dick. 

No ; that plan would give us but two weeks to get 
ready in, and it is necessary to secure berths at least one 
month in advance. We shall not go before the middle of 
April. Then, also, we shall be sure that the equinoctial 
storms are quite over, to their very latest reverberation.” 

“ Well, in any case, we had better fix upon our line of 
steamers, and write to the agent at once to take state- 
rooms,” suggested Anna. 

^‘Certainly,” agreed the General. 

And after a little more discussion of the merits of rival 
lines and individual steamers, their ship was selected, and 
Dick was authorized to write and secure state-rooms, and 
to be sure to get them amid-ships. 

Dick wrote, and in due course of mail he received the 
agent’s answer, sajfing that his party could have one state- 
room amid-ships and two near the bows. 


OLD AND NEW. 


187 


Dick showed this letter to the General, and the two in 
consultation decided that the choice state-room should he 
assigned to Drusilla and her child, while the other members 
of the party should take the less desirable berths. 

“ But we must say nothing to her about it, or she may 
refuse to make herself and boy comfortable at our expense, 
and insist upon a different arrangement,” said the General. 

So Dick wrote again to the agent, enclosing a draft 
upon a New York banker to pay for the state-rooms. 

And lively preparations were commenced for the voyage. 

Drusilla, who never in her life had been a hundred miles 
from home, was delighted with the prospect of crossing the 
ocean and travelling in distant countries. 

Not only was her mind all alert wuth the anticipations 
of intellectual pleasures, but her heart was cheered with 
the hope of being nearer to Alexander. 

It was even possible that she might see him, or that he 
might see her little Leonard. -And so Drusilla went enthu- 
siastically to work with her preparations. 

But the whole party made the usual mistake of inexpe- 
rienced voyagers — they encumbered themselves with an 
unnecessary amount of luggage. 

As if they were going beyond the bounds of civilization 
to live forever away from the possibility of purchasing the 
comforts or even the necessaries of life, they packed cloth- 
ing by the twelve dozens, and filled many great trunks. 

As if the steamer had no store-room or pantry, they took 
hampers of canned meats and fruits and jars of jellies and 
preserves. 

And as if there were no surgeon in the staff of officers, 
they took a “ doctor’s book ” and a “ phj'sic box,” to say 
nothing of boxes of lemons, bottles of pepermint cordial 
and cases of soda powders as preventives of sea-sickness, oi 
of books, magazines, checkers, chessmen, and musical in-, 
struments as preventives of ennui. .. . 


138 


T HE bride’s fate. 


Thus the party of seven had twenty-one large trunks. 

They took but two servants — Pina to nurse little Leonard 
and to wait on Drusilla and Annaj and young Jacob to 
attend upon the General and Dick. 

Old Jacob, Marcy and Matty were to be left in charge of 
Old Lyon Hall. Leo was to go for a visit to his parents at 
Cedarwood. 

All things being ready, the party of voyagers left Old 
Lyon Hall on the seventh of April, so as to have a day 
in Washington and a few days in New York before the 
sailing of the steamer on the fifteenth. 

General Lyon had many friends and acquaintances either 
permanently or temporarily residing in Europe. To add to 
the number of these he had procured letters of introduction 
from distinguished people in America to their peers in the 
old world. 

It was a very pleasant day of sunshine and showers in 
the capricious month, when they finally commenced their 
journey. 

They travelled from Old Lyon Hall to the Stormy Pe- 
trel Landing in the capacious old family carriage. 

They were followed by two wagons taking their heavy 
baggage. 

At this steamboat landing they took the Sea Gull for 
Washington, where they all arrived in good health in the 
afternoon of the next day. 

According to previous arrangement, they had a hack, 
and leaving their luggage at the railway station, went out 
to Cedarwood, where mammy and her old man were expect- 
ing to receive them, and where they found every thing pre- 
pared for their comfort. 

llooms were aired, beds made and bright little wood- 
fires kindled. And an exquisite early supper was in prog- 
ress. 

Mammy r<'.oeived her mistress and mistress’s friends with 


OLD AND NEW. 


139 


a mixture of deference and dignity in her manners that 
was quite impressive. 

And her , joy over the fine growth and beauty of her 
nurseling, little Leonard, was natural and delightful. 

The meeting also between Pina and Leo and their 
parents was very pleasant to see. 

Our party had reached Cedarwood at the most beautiful 
hour of sunset. 

General Lyon and Anna, who saw the place now for the 
first time and under its fairest aspect, were delighted with 
the cottage and its surroundings. 

It w’as not an imposing and venerable mansion, over- 
shadowed by mountains and forests, like Old Lyon Hall, 
but it was a pretty, wild wood home, fresh, bright, fair, and 
youthful. And Anna was in ecstacies over it. 

But the sparkling shower-gems that glittered in the rays 
of the setting sun, from every leaf and flower and blade of 
grass, while they added so much to the beauty of the scene, 
made it a little too damp for health. 

So Drusilla pressed her friends to go into the house, and 
General Lyon seconded her motion, and drove them in 
before him. 

“ This is all very pretty, my dears,” he said, but we 
don’t want to begin our voyage with bad colds.” 

So they went into the little drawing-room, with which 
you are so well acquainted, the lovely little drawing-rooom, 
where Drusilla had watched out so many weary niglits. 

A cheerful fire was burning in the grate ; and early 
spring flowers were blooming in the vases ; and the curtains 
that separated it from the little dining-room were drawn 
aside, showing the snowy damask, shining silver, and 
Sevres china, of a well-set supper-table. 

When they had stood before the fire a few moments to 
evaporate the slight dampness from their clothes, and to 
look around upon the pretty place, the servants were sum* 
moned to show them to their several rooms. 


140 


THE bride’s fate. 


Drusilla, attended by mammy, carrying little Leonard, 
went up to her own chamber. 

It was looking very fresh and bright, pretty and attrac- 
tive, with its crimson carpet and snowy curtains and its 
cheerful wood fire. 

But with what feelings did the young wife and mother 
enter again this chamber, so filled with sweet and bitter 
memories ? 

Certainly with some sadness at the thoughts of all the 
happiness and the misery she had felt in this place. But 
also with much thankfulness, that she and her child had 
passed through the fiery trials unscathed — had come forth 
from them sound in body and mind ; and were now blessed 
with health and happiness and many friends. 

She sank on her knees for a moment and returned sincere 
thanks to Divine Providence. And then she arose and 
Hiade a few necessary changes in her dress, and went below, 
to await her friends in the drawing-room. 

They soon joined her there. 

And then the supper, prepared with mammy’s best skill, 
was placed upon the table and the party sat down with 
good appetites to enjoy it. 

Afterwards Drusilla tried the tone of her new piano, the 
one tliat had been ordered and sent to the cottage by her 
agent when she was expecting to take her friends there to 
spend the winter. 

Slie found it out of tune from disuse, and so gave up the 
attempt to bring harmony out of it, for that evening. 

She sang and brought “mammy” up into the drawing- 
room and said : 

“Mammy, I shall write to my agent to send a man out 
here to put this instrument in tune. And after that you 
must make a fire in this room every wet day j and yon 
must play on it.” 

“ Plaj" on the fire, ma’am ! ” 


OLD AND NEW. 


141 


Ko, on the piano.’^ 

On the planner ! 

‘‘Yes, I teil you.” 

“ Why la, ma’am, I couldn’t do it ! It ain’t likely as I 
could ! I don’t know nothing about it ! I couldn’t play a 
tune, not no, if the salvation of my mortial soul depended 
on to it ! I could play on the jewsharp, if that would do. 

Drusilla smiled and said : 

“ I don’t suppose you could play any pieces on this in- 
strument. But I tell you what I want you to do. Look 
here—” 

* And Drusilla opened the piano and sat down before it. 
And mammy followed her and stood watching her motions. 

“ See, now ; begin here at this left hand end and strike 
every one of these little ivory keys in turn, just as I do 
now, one after the other till you get up here to the right 
hand end, and then backwards one after the other till you 
get back to the left hand end again. And then do the 
same thing with the black keys. You can do that, can’t 
you ? ” asked Drusilla, giving a practical illustration to her 
words. 

“ Oh yen, ma’am, I can do that well enough, and I think 
I shall like it. Let’s see, now. I’m to begin at the end 
where they groans and roars like sinners in the pit, and 
I’m to end at the end where they whistles and chippers 
like birds in the hush.” 

“Yes ; that is what you are to do for five or ten minutes 
every day, or every few days, as you please. And you are 
to light a fire here whenever it is very damp. All this is 
to keep the instrument in tune, you know.” 

“ Yes, ma’am, I think I shall like it. I know I shall like 
it. And it’s easy enough ! ” said mammy, standing by her 
mistress and touching the keys. “ La ! what will my old 
man say, when he finds out I am lamin’ music on the 
piann-^r, in my ole ages of life, and practysin’ every day 


142 


THE bride’s fate. 


like any boarding-school young lady ! Won’t he be took 
right offen his feet along with ’stonishment ? ” 

“ Very likely. And now that will do, mammy. I know 
you will like to spend as much time as possible with Pina, 
as she is so soon to leave you, so good night.” 

Good night, ma’am. Good night, ladies and gentle- 
men.” 

When mammy had left the room, Anna broke out into a 
peal of silvery laughter. 

Well, upon my word, Drusa,” she said, I never should 
have thought of your device for keeping a piano in tune.” 

“ Why not ? It is an obvious one, under the circum- 
stances.” 

Yes ; but think of the absurdity of having mammy 
seated at the piano, thumping upon the keys every day.” 

She will not thump. And there is no absurdity. 
She will in this way keep the instrument in tune, and 
I should not at all wonder if in the process she should 
teach herself to play by ear. She will, if she has the 
ordinary musical talent of her race,” said Drusilla. 

And then seeing General Lyon was actually nodding, 
and that Dick was trying to smother a yawn, she lighted 
the bed-room candles. 

Anna put one in Dick’s hand, and waked up the Gen- 
eral. 

And the party bade each other good-night, and went to 
their several rooms. 

The earliest hours next day were spent in the business 
that brought Drusilla to Cedarwood — the inspection of her 
little estate. 

General Ljmn, who had spent the best part of his long 
life in agricultural pursuits, was well fitted to judge correctly 
of such matters. And he pronounced everything connected 
with the farm to be ver}’’ well ordered, and he complimented 

mammy ” and her old man ” on the skill and fidelity 
with which they had administered affairs. 


OLD AND NEW. 


143 


By ten o’clock, the travellers having settled the business 
that brought them to Cedarwood, left for Washington to 
meet the mid-day train for New York, where they arrived 
at eleven o’clock at night. 

The}’" went to one of the up-town hotels, where they suc- 
ceeded in procuring good rooms on the second floor. After 
a late but light supper, they retired to rest, and, fatigued by 
their long ride, slept soundly. 

The next morning, Drusilla looked for the first time upon 
the great American seaport, as seen from the windows of 
her room at the hotel. 

From her point of view, she expected to see a thronged 
thoroughfare. She was agreeably disappointed, for she 
looked down upon a broad, clean, shady street, with a park 
on the opposite side, for the house was a quiet up-town one. 

While she stood at the window. General Ljmn came to 
the door to take her down to breakfast, in the public room, 
where at one of the little tables she found Anna and Dick 
already-seated, and waiting for her. 

After the usual greetings : 

“ This is the tenth,” said Anna ; “ we have six days to 
see all that we wish to see in New York, and so we must 
be busy, Drusa.” 

^‘Yes,” answered Drusilla. 

“But first of all, we must go and take a look at our 
steamer. I see by this morning’s paper that she got into 
port late last night,” said the General. 

“ You and I can go and do that, sir. The ladies need 
not accompany us unless they wish,” said Dick. 

“ Oh, but we do wish,” put in Anna. “ I was never , 
inside of an ocean-steamer in my life. Were you, Dru- 
silla ? ” 

“ Of course not.” 

“ And wouldn’t you like to go and take a look at the 
floating home in which we are to live for about two 
weeks ? ” 


144 


THE bride’s fate. 


Certainly I should, unless — ” 

‘^Unless what ? ” 

“ Our company should inconvenience Uncle or Dick.” 

It will not inconvenience me in the slightest degree. 
On the contrary it will give me pleasure. And — it don’t 
matter about Dick,” said the General. 

Then we’ll go,” concluded Anna, rising from the table. 

And you had better get ready at once, young ladies, as 
we have a great deal to do to-day after seeing the ship,” 
advised the General. 

And Drusilla, if I were in your place, I would let Pina 
take little Lenny across the street into the park. Jacob 
can go along to look after them both. So they will bo 
quite safe,” counselled Anna. 

Drusilla nodded and smiled assent. 

And they went up stairs to put on their bonnets, and 
soon came down prepared for the drive. 

The General and Dick were waiting in the hall, and the 
hired carriage was at the door. 

Only let me see little Lenny and his attendants safe in 
the park first, and then I will join you,” said Drusilla, who 
was leading in her hand her little boy ; who now, being 
seventeen months old, could walk and talk quite prettily. 

“ It is only across the street. It will not take us two 
minutes,” added Anna. 

“ And I am so much afraid of his being run over by car- 
riages,” pleaded the young mother. 

“ Oh, go, go ! ” laughed the General. 

And Drusilla and Anna saw their little charge safely 
across the street and within the enclosure of the green and 
shaded park; where, with many warnings and instructions 
to his attendants, they left him with Pina for his bearer 
and Jacob for his body-guard. 

Then they returned and joined their own protectors. 

See how patiently he is waiting for us ! Had ever any 


OLD AND NEW. 


145 


one such a dear, indulgent old uncle as I have ? ” said 
Drusilla, fondly regarding the old man as she approached. 

In two more minutes they were all in the carriage, and 
rolling down the avenue towards Broadway. 

They were nearly an hour in reaching their ship, which, 
with her passengers and freight all discharged, was lying 
quietly at her pier. 

Led on by Dich, pressing through crowds of people and 
climbing over piles of merchandise, and passing over decks 
of other boats, our party at last boarded their steamer, the 
“ Hurona.” 

Picking his way among coils of ropes and chains, and 
folds of canvas and heaps of coal, Dick went up to an 
officer on duty on the deck, and showing his tickets, 
requested to see the rooms engaged by his party. 

The officer politely acquiesced, called a steward, and 
directed him to show the gentleman and his friends to the 
hrst cabin. 

The man obeyed, and led our party down to the ele- 
gantly furnished floating drawing-room of the steamer. 

“This is much finer than anything we ever saw on our 
rivers and bays,’’ said Anna, as she glanced around upon 
the velvet carpets, satin damask curtains, heavily gilded 
cornices^ cheval mirrors, and all the showy appointments of 
the place. 

“This is number three, if you please, sir,” said the 
steward, opening the ground glass gilded door of a state- 
room on their right. 

“ Ah ! yes ; this is the place in which you will have to 
go to housekeeping for two weeks,” said the General, turn- 
ing with a smile to Drusilla. 

It was a clean, cozy den, with an upper and a lower 
berth, and a sofa, wash-stand, shelves and drawers, and ah 
that was required for convenience. 

9 


146 THE bride’s fate. 

Do you think you will be comfortable here ? inquired 
the General. 

I shall be verij comfortable. This is the largest state- 
room I ever saw/’ said Drusilla, glancing around approv- 
ingly, although she was too inexperienced to know that 
this was indeed one of the very best positions in the ship. 

And now we will see ours,” said Dick. 

And the steward led the party far away up to the bows 
of the steamer, where he showed them two large, three- 
cornered state-rooms, directly opposite each other. 

Though their position was execrable, they were even 
much larger and much better furnished than was Dru- 
silla’s. 

She noticed their ample size and many conveniences, and 
exclaimed : 

“ I am so glad that you have so much space and so many 
little drawers and cupboards to put away your things, and 
that you are so near each other, too.” 

And in her heart she wished that she could be near them 
also ; for she could not know that they had the worst situ- 
ation while she had the best, or that they would be har- 
rassed by every motion of the ship, while she w^ould scarcely 
feel it at all. 

Dick and Anna smiled and enjoyed her “ bliss of ignor- 
ance.” 

Having thus inspected their future quarters, they le^t the 
steamer and returned to the hotel. 

Drusilla had been feeling a little seqyet anxiety on the 
subject of her boy. 

But Master Lenny had neither been stolen, run over, 
choked, bumped, or injured in any other of the ways she 
had feared for him. He was quite safe, and full of a sub- 
ject which he called moodick ” and yed toat ; ” and 
which Drusa interpreted to mean a brass band attached to 
a marine corps that had been playing in the park to Letn, 
ny’s great delight. 


OLD AND NEW. 


147 


That evening our party went to the opera. The next 
day they visited the public institutions on the islands in 
East Eiver. 

And thus with sight-seeing or shopping all day long, 
and going to some place of amusement in the evening, 
they passed the time until Saturday. 

On that morning, at about ten o’clock, they embarked 
on board the Hurona, and took up their quarters in the 
state-rooms already described. 

The Hurona sailed at twelve noon. 

And after a voyage of ten days, which was so calm, 
pleasant and uneventful as to leave no incident worth 
recording, the Hurona reached the shores of the Old 
World. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

ARRIVAL. 


Britain ! America ! Mothei^^d child. 

Be heartily, happily, reconciled. 

Look to the world around ; 

Stricken by frenzy, with guilt defiled, 

A storm-tossed ship in the surges Mild, 

Soon to be wrecked and drowned ! 

Mother and daughter against the world. 

Under your peaceful Hags unfurled, 

Rights may rally at length; 

While earth’s hurricane, inwardly curled 
Spent Mith ruin of wrongs doM'n-hurled 

Weakens and wastes its strength. — M. F. T. 


To see for the first time the shores of the old worla ! It 
is indeed like coming to anotlier world ! like entering into 
another life ! 

Have we died? Was the vast sheet of water we passed 
the River ef Death ? And is the land we see before us the 
abode of departed spirits ? If so, is it Hades, or Elysium ? 
It looks more like Elysium ! 


148 


THE bride’s fate. 


So mused Drysilla as she stood dreamily leaning over the 
bulwarks of the Hurona, and gazing on the lovely shores 
of the Emerald Isle, all glittering in the beams of the 
rising sun, as the ship approached the beautiful Cove of 
Cork. 

She had risen very early and come up on deck alone to 
get a quiet first view of the land. All was bustle around 
her, for the ship was preparing to lay to for the purpose of 
landing the passengers for Ireland. The tiny steamboat 
from the shore was already puffing and blowing its way 
out to the ocean leviathan to take them off. 

Men, women and children, servants, porters and baggage, 
began to throng up from below. 

But Drusilla, plunged in a dream of the past, was almost 
unconscious of the confusion around her. 

“Elysium ! for certainly it is peopled with the spirits of 
departed heroes and sages ! ” she murmured to herself as 
the rivers of history and tradition rolled through her 
memory. 

A caressing hand was laid upon her shoulder and a kind 
voice said in her ear: 

“Good-morning, my child! Well, you see before you 
‘Hibernia,’ < Erin,’ ‘Ireland,’ the ‘ ould counthry ! ’ Now, 
what do you think of it ? ” 

“ Oh, uncle, it is a lovely land ! Who can look upon it 
and not love it ? And, oh ! what an experience to look 
upon it for the first time ! It is as if some beautiful creation 
of imagination was actually realized to the senses ! To 
look upon her shores and think of her history, her legends 
and her poetry ! to almost see the shades of her dead 
heroes, sages and minstrels ! ” said Drusilla, enthusiasti- 
cally. 

“ Well, my dear, I dare say ardent young strangers like 
you feel all these things and see all these ghosts. But I 
don’t suppose the people who live in the laud, or the marin- 


ARRIVAL. 


149 


ers that frequent the cove, ever do. Such is the effect of 
novelty in your case, and of habit in theirs.” 

“ But can any length of habit blind one to such beauty 
as this ? Oh, look ! was ever such brilliant green herbage 
spread over the earth, or such heavenly blue sky above it, 
or such soft white clouds sailing over it ? See those lovely, 
billowy hills ! as the cloud-shadows pass over them they 
seem to rise and fall, like the waves of the ocean, only 
more gently ! It reminds of something Tennyson said. 
What was it ? Oh 

‘ The hills are shadows and they flow 
From form to form and nothing stands ; 

They melt like mists, the solid lands, 

^ Like clouds they shape themselves and go.^ 

/ 

He was speaking geologically of the changes wrought by 
centuries ; but here the beautiful green sunlit or , cloud- 
shaded hills do seem every moment to ^ flow from form to 
form,’ ^ to melt like mists,’ like clouds to shape themselves 
and go.’” 

“ You are a dreamer, little Drusa ! ” 

“ It does seem like a dream. I should not be the least 
surprised to wake up and find myself — where ? — anywhere 
at all in my past life ! In my little corner of the house- 
keeper’s room in the Chief- Justice’s dwelling; in the lolling 
chair of the little drawing-room at Cedarwood w^aiting for 
Alick to come back ; or at dear old Lyon Hall with little 
Lenny trying to pull my eyes open. Life seems often very 
like a dream.” 

“ And always in any great change of scene or circum- 
stances.” 

And most of all in coming to an old, historical country 
like this, that we have always known in imagination, and 
never in reality. But look, uncle ! do not let us lose the 
features of this sweet scene ! It will be a picture in our 
mind’s eye for many coming years. See, away there on 


150 


THE bride’s fate. 


the horizon, crowning the most distant of the visible hills, 
a cluster of old, gray ruins — the remains of some medieeval 
castle or monastery ! And look a little further down. See 
the mossy huts, dotted about at long intervals, half hidden 
in dells and thickets, and under great trees j and nearer 
still, the town with its glittering spires and its forest of 
shipping ! ” 

‘‘Yes, my dear, the ninth century and the nineteenth are 
brought together in this view ! ” 

Here the old man felt a pair of tenacious little claws 
fasten themselves upon his leg, and a shrill, tiny voice sing 
out : 

“ Untie Danpa ! Untie Danpa Dennel ! ” 

And, turning, he saw and lifted up little Lenny. 

Little Lenny’s language needs translating. He called or 
tried to call every one around him by the names he heard 
them call each other. Thus, with him, Drusilla was called 
“ Doosil ; ” Anna, “Nannan;” Dick, “Dit;” while 
General Lyon, who was variously called uncle, grand-pa, or 
general, was “Untie Danpa,” or even “Untie Danpa 
Dennel.” 

“ Well, my little man, what do you want ? ” inquired the 
General, smiling on the child. 

“ Hee, hee ! ” cried Lenny, pointing to the shore. “ Mate 
Doosil tate Lenny home.” 

“ ‘ Make Drusil’ take Lenny home ? ’ Why, where is 
home ? ” 

“ Dere, dere ! Mate Doosil tate Lenny home ! ” 

“ That’s not home ! ” 

“ Yet tid too ! Mate Doosil tate Lenny home, dit miiv- 
ute ! ” 

“You peremptory little despot ! what do you mean ? ” 

“ Oh, uncle, you know ever since Lenny lost sight of 
land, he has been abroad ; now he sees it again, he thinks 
it is home ! ” said Drusilla, smiling on the child. 


ARRIVAL. 


151 


Master Lennv, with his father’s features, inherited much 
)f his father’s self-will ; and so he soon became both obstre- 
perous and vociferous in his demands to be taken home. 

Mamma will take Lenny over there presently,” said 
Drusilla soothingly, as she took the child in her arms. 

You know, uncle, our steamer will lie here until this 
afternoon, and we shall have time to go on shore for an hour 
or so,” she added turning to the veteran. 

Yes, I suppose Anna and Dick would like it. I know 
I should. And — ah ; here they come now ! ” said the Gen- 
eral, as his niece and nephew appeared upon the deck. 

“ What a charming view ! ” exclaimed Anna, 

It is like Fairy land ! ” cried Dick. 

Come, come ! none of that now you know! WeVe bad 
enough of it ! Here’s Drusa been singing its praises ever 
since I came to her side. And there, thank goodness, 
there’s the breakfast bell I Come down now, and praise the 
company’s cook ! Tw'O weeks’ trial has proved him to be 
incomparable,” said the General, leading the way to the sa- 
loon. 

After breakfast, the party got ready to go on shore. 

The little steamer made several trips between the ship 
and the shore, and they availed themselves of its accommor 
dation to land. 

Terrace after terrace they ascended the picturesque 
heights of the town until they reached the highest point — 

Spy Hill,” — ^from which they enjoyed a magnificent bird’s- 
eye view of the sea and land — the broad expanse of the 
channel; the harbor, with its abrupt headlands and its 
countless shipping ; its shores, with their beautiful trees 
and elegant villas ; and the rolling countries beyond. 

They spent the morning in walking about amid the 
charming scenery, until little Lenny, having tired his own 
legs and every body else’s arms, got hungry and sleepy, and 
ordered his biggers to give him something to eat and to 
put him to bed. 


152 


THE bride’s fate. 


Then they went down to the village, entered a pastry- 
cook’s shop, a id got a light luncheon; and, next, they hired 
a boat to take them back to their ship. 

They found that they had no time to lose, for she was 
getting up her steam to start again ; and, if they had not 
hastened, they might have been left behind. 

The steamer sailed at four o’clock that afternoon ; but she 
encountered rough weather in the channel, so that it was 
nearly dark the next day when she reached Liverpool. 

And now our party felt the inconvenience of having so 
much baggage. They were anxious to hasten on to Lon- 
don. They could see Liverpool at any future time before 
their return home ; but they wished to reach London soon 
enough to enjoy the last few remaining weeks of the 
season, and, above all, to be in time to see the Derby,” 
which was to come off in two days. There was a train to 
start at six that evening, and if they could have caught it, 
they might have reached London by twelve midnight, in 
time for a good night’s rest. And if it had not been for 
their great quantity of baggage, they could have done so ; 
but they had twenty-one trunks to be inspected by the 
custom-house officers, and had also to wait their turn to be 
attended to. 

There is much grumbling at these functionaries ; but for 
my part, I have found them always courteous — doing their 
ungracious duty with as much forbearance as they could 
conscientiously exercise. 

You have made us lose the train. We wished to go up 
to London by the six o’clock express,” growled General 
Lyon, as the officer on duty came up at length to examine 
the luggage. 

“ Very sorry, sir ; but it could not be helped. There is a 
parliamentry goes at ten.” 

‘ A pj rliamentary ? ’ What the deu^e is a < parliamen- 
tary ? ’ ” 


ARRIVAL. 


153 


The man looked up in surprise at this traveller’s igno- 
rance, yet scarcely knew how to enlighten him on so simple 
a subject j for the most obvious things are often the most 
difficult of explanation to those that do not understand 
them. 

‘‘What the mischief is the parliamentary?” again in- 
quired the General. 

The officer looked up from the open trunk before which 
he was kneeling, and answered, slowly : 

“Well, sir, the parliamentary is the parliamentary, 

you know.” 

“ Humph ! ” 

“ It is not the express.” 

“ So I should judge from its name.” 

“ It is the slow, heavy train.” 

“ Everything ‘ parliamentary ’ is, I should imagine. 
When does this ‘ parliamentary ’ start ?” 

“ At ten to-night, and gets in at five in the morning.” 

“ A most uncomfortable hour — too late to go to bed, and 
too early to be up ! What the deuce makes jmur ‘ parli- 
mentary ’ so slow and heavy ? ” 

“It is the people’s train — the accommodation — carries 
the three classes of carriages and stops at all the stations.” 

“ IJmph-humph ! ” 

“ The first-class carriages are very comfortable, and you 
can sleep in them as comfortably as in your own arm- 
chair.” 

“Humph! that might do very well for an after-dinner 
nap ; hardly for a night’s rest ! ” 

While they were thus conversing, the custom-house 
officer was passing from one trunk to another, lifting their 
lids and looking in. He finished, and marked the lot, and 
went away. 

“ I think, grand-pa, if you had had ten thousand dollars 
worth of smuggled goods in these trunks, and designed to 


154 


THE bride’s fate. 


cheat the revenue of the duties, you could not have gone to 
work more cunningly than by talking as you did to the 
officer. The man couldn’t attend to what he was doing for 
listening to you,” laughed Anna. 

“ Now what are we to do with all these ^ impediments ? ’ 
I wish for my part, the custom-house fellow had seized the 
lot; or that we had encountered a storm at sea, and it had 
been found necessary to throw them all overboard to lighten 
the ship ! It would have saved us a deal of time, and 
trouble, and expense. And we have all we really want in 
our carpet-bags,” growled the General. 

Uncle, I hope you are not turning into a regular 
grumbler ? That wouldn’t be like yourself ! But you 
have done nothing hut grumble, ever since you landed, and 
without the slightest provocation, you naughty old uncle ! ” 
said Drusilla, saucily. 

My dear, give me some credit that I do not swear as 
well as grumble ! ” 

^‘Oh, uncle, think what the Dutchman said when he 
whipped his sulky son, — ‘Hans, you might as coot zay 
‘ tamn ’ as tink ‘ tamn ! ’ ” 

“ Drusil, I am thinking ‘ tamn ’ very intently, ever since 
I came on shore. Now, where the deuce are the porters ? 
Now, if this were New York, one would be deafened by 
them,” growled the General, showing himself in front. 

His grievance was removed, and he was “ deafened by 
them ” and others immediately. 

“ Porter, sir ? ” 

“Cab, sir?” 

Fly, sir ? ” 

“ Queen’s hotel ? ” 

“ Adelphi ? ” 

“ Star-and-Garter ? ” 

“ Times, sir ? ” 

Were some of the sounds shouted into his ears — not once, 
but a score of times. 


ARRIVAL. 


155 


** Queen’s hotel, sir ? ” 

^ Lord Admiral, sir ? ” 

Carriage, sir ? How many, sir ? Where to, sir ? ” 

How car. I tell when I can’t hear myself think, for your 
noise ? Dick, answer all these men, and see to the baggage 
being taken to the station. Jacob hasn’t knowledge enough 
—he would be sure to get it lost ; though, for that matter, I 
wish he would lose it — it would be an immense relief to me ! 
I shall take Anna and Drusilla over to that restaurant, to 
get them out of this din, and to give them a cup of tea.” 

All right, uncle. Pray go- and make j^ourself and the 
ladies comfortable,” said Dick, good-humoredly. 

“ And let me see,” said the General, examining his 
watch. It is now nine o’clock. The — hem — ‘ parliamen- 
tary ’ starts at ten. We have but an hour to wait. It 
will not be worth while to go to a hotel. I think it will be 
best for us to stop over there until it is time for us to go to 
the station. See to getting our tickets, Dick, will you ? 
And have a carriage at the door there in time.” 

“ All right, uncle. Make yourself easy.” 

“ Come along, young women ! Pina ! give me that 
child. You look as if you were ready to drop under his 
weight.” 

“ A sleeping baby is twice as heavy as a waking one, 
sir,” said the girl, as she placed the child in the old man’s 
arms. 

And regardless of the staring street boys who grinned at 
seeing the ^^old gent” playing nursemaid, he crossed the 
street to a cheerful gas-lighted pastry-cook’s shop, where he 
and his partj^ were accommodated with a small private par- 
lor and a neatly-spread tea-table. 

Before they got half through with tea, Dick joined them 
and reported that he had procured the tickets for a whole 
compartment in the first-class carriages, which he declared 
to be quite as comfortable as the civil custom-house officer 
had represented them to be. 


156 THE bride’s fate. 

Dick was served with a cup of tea, a plate of sallyluns, 
toast, periwinkles, shrimps, and the finest strawberries he 
had ever seen. 

Dick quaffed his tea with avidity, for he was both heated 
and thirsty ; and he also enjoyed the toast and the sallyluns ; 
hut he glanced suspiciously at the periwinkles and the 
shrimps. 

“ What manner of fish, flesh, fruit or vegetable may 
these be ? ” he inquired, taking up a plate of periwinkles 
and squinting at them. 

Taste and see,” answered Anna, as with the point of a 
pin she delicately drew one from its snail-like shell. 

Drusilla was at the same time peeling a shrimp for little 
Lenny. 

Dick glanced from one to the other and shuddered. 
These tea-table delicacies looked — the one so like an insect, 
the other so like a reptile. 

^<Try this, Dick,” coaxed A.nna, as she offered him a 
morsel from the point of a new pin. 

Dick shrank. 

“ Now don’t be prejudiced ! Consider what an uninviting 
edible is the oyster, in the shell or out of it ! Who that 
did not know how good it is would ever dare to eat it ? 
Now try this ? ” 

“ Oh, thou modern Eve ! I take it, since thou tellst me 
it is ‘ good for food,’ ” sighed Dick, as he gingerly accepted 
the dainty. 

“ Now how do you like it ? ” inquired Anna. 

My temptress, it is delicious ! I thank thee for intro- 
ducing me to the acquaintance of the periwdnk.” 

I knew jmu w^ould like it,” said Anna. 

“ More s’imp ! more s’imp ! ” called out little Lenny, for 
whom his mamma could not peel fast enough. 

Are they good also. Master Lenny ? ” smiled Dick, 
helping himself to one. 


ARRIVAL. 


157 


^ Dey dood. Mate Kannan peel for woo, Dit,” answered 
tlie little Turk, who evidently thought that women were 
made to wait on men and — boys. 

“ They have an exquisite flavor ! They are as fine, witli 
a difference, as the periwink’ itself. Master Lenny, jmur 
humble servant. I’m bound to you for making me 
acquainted with the shrimp. I don’t know which of these 
two dainties I like the best. After this I can believe in a 
man being in love with two — ” 

Dishes at the same time,” interjected Anna. 

Ladies at the same time,” concluded Dick. 

More s’imps ! more s’imps ! Mate Pina peel ! ” vocif- 
erated the little despot, for whom his mamma could not 
keep up the supply. 

And Pina was called to help ; but new hands are awk- 
ward at the shrimp peeling business ; and as Pina took a 
minute to peel a delicate morsel that Master Lenny swal- 
lowed in a second, he soon called out again ; 

“ More s’imps ! more s’imps ! Mate Nannan peel too ! ” 

Anna good-naturedly complied. But even with her 
help the demand continued to be greater than the supply. 
knd. the tiny autocrat, looking around and seeing no more 
female slaves at hand, called out : 

More s’imps ! more s’imps ! And make Bit peel.” 

And Dick obediently sacrificed his periwinkles, and 
cheerfully betook himself to the service of the liliputian 
tyrant. 

But still the demand exceeded the supply, for these vas- 
sals were awkward at the work ; so, after glancing dubi- 
ously at his venerable relative. Master Leonard sang out 
lustily : 

More s’imps ! more s’imps ! And mate Untle-dranpa 
peel ! ” 

And the veteran soldier of hard-won fields, the leader of 
tens of thousands, smiled submissively and obeyed the 
baby boy. 


158 


THE BRIDE S FATE. 


But there is an end to all things, even to infant despot* 
ism, and so when the three-quarters past nine struck, the 
party rose from the table, for they had but fifteen minutes 
to catch the train in. 

They hurried on their outer garments and hastened into 
the liired fly and were driven rapidly to the station. 

Livelj^ and well-lighted, but by no means noisy or con- 
fused was the scene. There was a ver}’’ long and heavy 
train of carriages, for it carried the ‘‘three estates,” but 
so orderly were all the arrangements, so exact were the reg- 
ulations, so well trained the guards and porters, so vigilanl 
the police, that all went smoothly and surely as clock-work. 

As if by magic, our travellers soon found themselves in 
a first-class carriage, with all their luggage piled on the 
roof, flying along with great rapidity", while hedges, fields 
and farm-houses, seen dimly in the half light, reeled past 
on either side. Though it was ten o’clock post meridian, 
yet in these northern latitudes, and at this season, it was 
still twilight. The carriage in which our travellers found 
themselves was in many respects like the inside of a large 
family coach, only it was much more capacious than any 
such vehicle. It had eight well-cushioned spring seats — 
four front and four back ; and glass doors and windows on 
the right and left. In recesses under the seats and racks 
over them there was ample space for the storage cf all their 
light luggage. 

Anna and Drusilla occupied the back seats. General 
Lyon and Dick the front ones. Down on the floor between 
them, on a bed made of rugs and shawls, with a carpet-bag 
for a pillow, little Lenny, satisfied with shrimps, was laid 
asleep. Pina and Leo had seats in a second-class carriage. 

Once shut up in their own carriage with the train in 
motion, our travellers were as isolated from all other people 
as if they had been making the journey in their own fam- 
ily coach. They neither saw nor heard anything of their 
fello w-passen gers. 


ARRIVAL. 


159 


For the first hour they conversed a little with each other, 
making comments upon the ride, as : 

‘‘How long the twilight lasts in these parts or: 

“ Will this light mist turn to rain before morning?’’ 
or : 

“ What a carefully cultivated country ! There is no 
waste land hereabouts. The whole scene seems to be a 
perpetual landscape garden.” 

But in the second hour they gradually succumbed to 
fatigue and drowsiness and dropped off to sleep — each 
reposing in a corner as he or she best could, and waking 
only when the train would stop at a wayside station, which, 
by-the-by, w’as every few minutes. 

Whenever it stopped there were passengers to get in or 
out, but the train was so very long that the chances were 
tliat these passengers would be a quarter of a mile before 
or behind them ; and so, though our friends, always on 
these occasions roused themselves and looked forth, they 
saw little beyond the lighted station, the vanishing plat- 
form, and running guards and porters. 

Drusilla always looked from the windows with something 
more than curiosity — wdth eager interest; for, since she 
landed in England, her uppermost thought had been that 
she wpes in the same country with her Alick ; and wdio 
knew but she might meet him any where at any moment — 
even at one of these way-side stations ? 

But whenever the train started again, the swift motion, 
and the late hour, and the comfortable, not to say luxurious 
resting-place lulled her in a light slumber, in wdiich she 
was still conscious of the strange, new scene — the wondrous 
old country through w'hich she was passing; feeling that 
slie loved the old mother-land of her race, and lovol it 
well ; dreaming that she was returning there after ages of 
expatriation ; seeing shades of knights in armor, “ old an- 
•estra’ spirits ; ” seeing .visions of mediieval halls, with all 


160 


THE bride’s fate. 


the barbaric pageantry of long ago, dimlj’’ shadowed fortK 
Then waking up to note with delight the fresh, bright 
rural scenes of to-day — the thickly-sown, but luxuriantlj"- 
growing fields; the green hedges; the crowded but flour- 
ishing gardens ; the shrub-shaded, vine-covered cottages — 
the humblest laborer’s hut all mantled with flowering green 
creepers that made it look like a garden bower, tlie slender- 
est strip of land among the line of rails thickly planted 
with vegetables, — nothing wasted, nothing ugly. 

It was only a little past midnight, j’-et it was already 
morning, and every moment day broadened. 

Drusilia continued to gaze with surprise and delight upon 
the beautiful land; for, whatever the sky of England may 
be, the face of the country, especially in this region, is very 
charming. 

Sometimes Drusilla’s contemplations would be interrupted 
by a restless movement of little Lenny. She would then 
stoop and turn him over, and he would fall asleep again. 

General Lyon and Anna slept so soundly at length that 
they were not awakened by the stopping of the train, nor 
even by the loud snoring of Dick, who, when in a state of 
somnolency, was a fine performer on the proboscis — the 
only musical instrument he understood. 

Long before the}’’ reached London, its distant, huge 
cloud of smoke and fog hanging upon the horizon greeted 
tlie eye — its distant thunder of blended sounds came soft- 
ened to the ear. 

Soon they were at Euston Square station, in all the great 
crowd and bustle of the parliamentary train’s arrival. 

It was surprising to them, amid the hundreds of ttavel- 
lers and the hills of luggage to be cared for, how soon our 
party, without much effort on their own part, was attended 
to. 

Before they had time to become impatient, they found 
themselves in one cab, followed by their servants in another, 
bowling along through the streets of London. 


ARRIVAL 


161 


It was but little past four o’clock, and all the shops were 
still closed, and the sidewalks nearly deserted. Only the 
earliest bakers’, butchers’, and costermongers’ carts were 
abroad, or cabs and vans taking passengers to and from 
early trains, or cook-maids at the heads of area stairs, re- 
ceiving from the milkman the daily supply. 

Even at this early hour, there were many novelties of 
the London streets that struck pleasantly upon our trav- 
ellers’ eyes, among them the abundance of flowers shown in 
almost every open window of every house. But what 
pleased Master Lenny most was the costermongers’ little 
carts, piled with green vegetables and ripe fruit, and drawn 
by little donkeys. Master Lenny took them to be toy-carts 
for little boys to play with, and insisted upon being accom- 
modated with one immediately ; nor was he to be quieted 
until his mamma promised him a mysterious pleasure in a 
donkey-ride at Greenwich. 

It is a long drive from Euston Square station to the 
Morley House, Trafalgar Square, which had been selected 
as their hotel by General Lyon, at the recommendation of 
a fellow passenger on board the Hurona. 

It was nearly five o’clock when they reached the house, 
yet few servants seemed to be stirring about it. 

They could be accommodated with apartments immedi- 
ately, said the polite functionary who happened to be on 
duty j but he regretted to add that they would have to wait 
for breakfast, as the head waiter did not rise until seven. 

Two hours to wait. It is too bad, after such a tiresome 
night-ride,” groaned General Lyon. 

He had endured nights of toils and days of fasting, in 
the battle times of long ago ; but he was young then and 
the cause was great, so he had rather liked that sort of 
life ; but it was different with him now that he was old and 
fated to abide the pleasure of the head waiter. 

They were shown to large, airy, clean bed rooms, all near 

10 


162 


THE BKIDe’s fate. 


each other, and opening upon the corridors, and having one 
privarte parlor in the suit. 

In this parlor our party gathered for a moment to con- 
sult. The delay of breakfast is sometimes felt as a calam- 
ity. 

“Can we not procure even a cup of coffee for love or 
money ? ” inquired Dick. 

The ofScial was very sorry, but the head waiter would 
not rise till seven. 

“ Will you be so good as to send a chamber-maid, then ? 
requested Anna. 

He was very sorry, but he was afraid the chambermaids 
were not j^et stirring. The hour was early. 

“ So it is ; and we must be reasonable. Servants must 
have their rest, you know,” said Drusilla, soothingly. 

And the really obliging attendant smiled and bowed. 

“Let us go to our rooms and make ourselves comfortable 
and lie down. Perhaps we shall sleep ; at any rate, we 
shall rest. The two hours will soon pass,” continued Dru- 
silla. 

“ No, no, no, no ! No do ’leep ! ” objected the head of 
the family, who had had his own sleep out and had waked 
up hungry. “ No do ’leep ! More s’imp — more s’imp ! ” 

“ Poor little fellow, he is hungry,” sighed Drusilla. 

“ I think I can get some warm milk and bread for the 
child, ma’am,” said the man. 

“ Oh, I shall be very much obliged to you if you will. 
We can wait better than he can,” said Drusilla, gratefully. 

And the man went out and fetched the milk and bread, 
which, at first, Lenny refused to touch, peremptorily ex- 
claiming : 

“ No, no, no ! No b’ed milt ! — more s’imp !” 

Put being assured that his slaves could not procure 
shrimps for him, he seemed to divine that even despots 
cannot compel people to perform impossibilities, and also 
being very hungry, he ate his bread and milk. 


ARRIVAL. 


163 


Wlien Lenny had finished his meal, the party separated 
and went to their bed rooms to lie down for an hour or 
two. They did not expect to sleep, but they slept — so 
soundly that they did not awake until some time after 
seven o’clock, when a waiter rapped at General Lyon’s door 
to take his orders about the breakfast. 

The General referred him for instructions to Mrs. Ham- 
mond. 

And soon the whole party, much refreshed by their sleep, 
assembled in the private parlor for breakfast. 

It was after eight, however, before it was finally set upon 
the table. 

There were fine Mocha coffee, English breakfast tea, rich 
cream, sweet butter, fresh eggs, broiled ham and broiled 
pigeons, light bread, toast and muffins. 

For a few minutes our famished travellers were so closely 
engaged in discussing these delicacies, that not a word was 
wasted upon any other subject than their meal. But after 
they had all eaten and were satisfied, they began to talk of 
their immediate plans of enjoyment. The great city held 
out a thousand attractions to strangers. It was an “ embar- 
rassment of riches ” in the sight-seeing line that troubled 
them. 

Where shall we go first ?” was the great question. 

Various answers were returned. 

“ To the Eoyal Academy.” 

To Westminster Abbey.” 

To the Tower.” 

The British Museum.” 

St. Paul’s Cathedral.” 

The Zoological Gardens.” 

These were a few of the suggestions offered ; hut as the 
three young people spoke at once, it was impossible for 
their elder and arbitrator to know who favor what. 

^^I think, upon reflection,” he said, at length, ^^that we 


164 


THE bride’s fate. 


had better not attempt any of those great sights just now. 
To see either one of them well would be an exhausting 
day’s work ; and we wish to be fresh for the Derby to- 
morrow. The Derby, my children ! Come ! we shall have 
time enough to see everything else afterwards. But we 
can only see the Derby to-morrow ; so to-da}^, I think, we 
will just take a fly and drive around and leave some of our 
letters of introduction, with our present address. What do 
you say to that plan ? ” 

As the plan was of the General’s devising, all agreed to 
it. 

A fly was ordered, and the ladies retired to change their 
dresses for the drive. 

Drusilla was the most expeditious with her toilet. She 
soon returned to the parlor fully equipped for her drive. 

Little Lenny, in charge of his nurse, was standing 
within the recess of the front window, dancing with delight 
at something he saw outside. Drusilla heard a pair of 
shrill, cracked voices in apparent conflict below. 

Hee ! bee ! Doosil — hee ! ” shouted the child. 

Drusilla approached, and witnessed for the first time the 
renowned Punch and Judy show. 

While standing there and enjoying her child’s enjoyment, 
she saw a gentleman come forth apparently from a coffee- 
room below and start to cross Trafalgar Square ; and with 
a half-suppressed cry she recognized — 

Alexander Lyon. 

She had been alwa3’^s looking for him — alwaj's expecting 
to see him since she first set foot in England, yet she had 
known that her looking was like the search for a needle in 
a hay-rick, and her expectations as extravagant in the first 
instance as they would be in the last. 

And now that she actually saw him walk out from the 
same house in which she herself was sojourning, the aston- 
ishment and the shock were so great, that she reeled and 
held b}^ the window-sill for support. 


A K RIVAL. 


165 


Without stopping to consider whether the action might 
he proper or otherwise, she turned to the waiter who was 
engaged in taking away the breakfast service, and beck- 
oned him to her side. He came, his mouth a little open 
with wonder. 

Does that gentleman stop here ? ” she inquired, point- 
ing to Mr. Lyon. 

Lord Killcrichtoun ? Yes, ma'am, he stops here,” 
replied the waiter. 

“No, you mistake. You think I mean somebody else; 
but I mean that gentleman. Look ! he is just half across 
the square now.” 

“ J ust so, ma’am. Lord Killcrichtoun of Killcrichtoun, 
County of Sutherland, North Britain. Yes, ma’am, he is 
here.” 

“I am sure you mistake. I allude to the gentleman in 
gray. Look ! now he lifts his hat and replaces it. There 
he is passing the corner ? ” 

“ Precisely, ma’am. He is up for the Derby, ma’am, 
begging your pardon. My lord goes down to Epsom this 
evening, ma’am. Any more commands, ma’am ? ” 

“ Thanks, no ; you may go.” 

Drusilla sank down upon the nearest seat, unmindful of 
the prattling of her little Lennj’’, who was still laughing 
with delight at the broad absurdities of the puppet-show; 
for the w'hole truth flashed on her now. The young Amer- 
ican gentleman w'ho had claimed the baron}’- of Killcrich- 
toun, in the right of his mother, was no other than her own 
Alick ! And he was living under the same roof with her ! 
Did he know that she was here, or w^ould he find it out ? 
Were the names of all new-comers registered in open books 
in English hotels as in American ones ? If so, was it his 
habit to look at them ? What would he think if he saw 
her name on the books of the hotel — 

“ Mrs. Alexander Lyon^ childy and servant.’’^ 


166 


THE BRIDE S FATE. 


Would he happen to see her? Would he wish to see 
little Lenny ? Suppose he were to meet her — what would 
he say or do ? He might pass her j but could he pass little 
Lennj^ — charming little Lenny — fair-haired, blue-eyed 
little Lenny, with his father’s own features and com- 
plexion ? 

It was scarcely possible that he could. 

And, if he should stop to caress his son, to take^ him in 
his arms, to press him to his heart, what next ? Would he 
stop there, and put the child away again ? 

Not likely ! for, setting natural affection aside, now that 
he had a title, he would want an heir ; and what a fine, 
promising one was this ! 

Or would he perhaps claim the child and take him from 
his mother ? He could do so. The law would give him 
Lenny, though it should break the mother’s heart. Would 
he avail himself of this law to tear her child from her 
arms ? 

No, never ! she thought ; badly as he had treated her 
while he had been maddened by the passions of pride and 
ambition, he would never while in his sober senses — never 
in cold blood deal her such a cruel blow. 

True he had once, in bitterly cruel terms, denounced and 
renounced her forever ; but she thought of his words when- 
ever they forced themselves upon her memory, only as the 
ravings of frenzied anger; she knew that they would 
never have been carried out to extremity. Alexander had 
told her that she might starve, but she felt in her heart that 
he would never even have let her want ! 

And now she felt sure that, however he might learn to 
love his little Lenny, — however he might desire to possess 
him, he would never attempt to take him away from her. 

No, she was sure that he would rather let little Lenny 
lead him back to her. 

Her hopes arose, her heart beat quickly at the thought. 


ARRIVAL. 


167 


Did she then feel no jealous pain at the idea of being re- 
united to her husband only through his natural affection for 
his child? 

Not the least. She loved both too purely for such 
jealousy. 

On the contrary, she felt that it would be sweet to be in- 
debted to little Lenny for a reconciliation with his father. 
And she knew, besides, that once reconciled to Alick by any 
means, and especially by this means, she could win her 
WAY to his heart, and gain a firmer hold there than she had 
ever possessed before. 

Then her thoughts reverted to his new title : 

Lord Killcrichtoun — Baron Killcrichtoun of Killcrich- 
toun.’’ 

From what she had read she knew that it was an almost 
barren title, no wealth coming with it, — only an old ruin, 
and a few wretched huts in the wildest part of the High- 
lands appertaining to it. 

But in his pride of race he had claimed the title, and no 
doubt had gone to great expense to prove his right to it, 
and he would probably remain in England to enjoy it, since 
in America it would only make him ridiculous. 

She herself was strongly attached to her native country 
with its bright sunshine, its vast forests and its high moun- 
tains. All her friends and all her fortunes were there, yet 
she would gladly expatriate herself to live anywhere, any- 
where ” under the sun, with her Alick. 

While she mused. General Lyon, Anna, and Dick came 
in, ready for their drive. 

Dick said that the fly was waiting. 

So, after charging Pina to be very careful of little Lenny, 
Drusilla followed her party down stairs and into the car- 
riage, and they started — to go first as in duty bound to 
leave their cards at the American Embassy, and then to 
leave their letters of introduction with the people for whom 
they were intended. 


168 


THE bride’s fate. 


They did but stop and send in their cards and letters; 
they made no visit anywhere ; but preferred to leave it to 
the option of their friends and correspondents to make their 
acquaintance or not. 

They returned to the Morley House at four in the after- 
noon. 

Anna went into her bedroom to take off her bonnet ; hut 
Drusilla hurried at once into the parlor to look after her 
child. 

She found little Lenny quite safe ; but boiling over with 
excitement, not to say indignation. 

“ Why, what is the matter with my little man ? ” in- 
quired the mother, sitting down and lifting the child to her 
lap. 

“ Man ! man ! tut off Lenny turl ! ’’ exclaimed the child, 
pointing to his head, while his blue eyes flashed and his 
rosy cheeks flushed. 

Cut off Lenny’s curl ? Who did it ? Pina ! who did 
this ? ” inquired Drusilla, looking at the short lock from 
which the curl had been severed. 

“ Indeed, ma’am, I don’t know ! I left Master Leonard 
in charge of the chambermaid only one minute, while I ran 
to get his milk and bread, and when I came back it was 
done.” 

“ And what did the chambermaid say 

She said as how ” 

Kever mind ! I had rather hear the account from her- 
self. Go and try and find that chambermaid, and fetch her 
here.” 

Pina went on the errand and soon returned with a bloom- 
ing English girl, who curtsied and stood waiting orders. 

“ What is your name ? ” inquired Drusilla. 

Susan, ma'am.” 

“Well, Susan, did you have charge of this little child foi 
a few minutes ? ” 


A R K I V A t . 


169 


Yes, ma’am,” answered the girl, blushing. 

Then how came you to let any one cut off his curl ? ” 

‘‘Indeed, ma’am, I couldn’t liclp it ! It was done so sud- 
den. And I didn’t dare oppose my lord.” 

“My lord?” 

“ My Lord Killcrichtoun it was, ma’am, who did it.” 

“ Killcrichtoun ! ” repeated Drusilla, as a light broke on 
her mind. 

Killchristian ! exclaimed Pina, in dismay. Kill* 
Christian ! ! It’s a wonder he had not cut off the child’s 
head as well as his hair ! Good gracious ! was ever such a 
heathenish, savage, barbarious name ! ” 

“ So it was one of the gentlemen of the house who did 
it ? ” inquired Drusilla, striving to control the excess of her 
emotions. 

“ Yes, ma’am ; but indeed I thought by the way he be- 
haved that he had a right to do it, and that the child was 
some kin to him. He don’t act so like a mad gentleman in 
general, ma’am.” 

“ Tell me all about it.” 

“ Well, ma’am, now I think upon it, I almost believe he 
must have watched his opportunity j for as soon as ever 
the nurse-maid was gone, he came to the door, looked all 
around, and seeing no one but me and my charge, took the 
boy up in his arms and hugged him and kissed him and 
fondled him, and almost cried over him ; and then before I 
could suspect, much less prevent his doing it, he out with 
his pen-knife and whipped off that pretty golden curl. 
And then he hurried aw\ay. I think he heard the nurse- 
maid coming, for she W’as in the room the next minute. 
And you came in almost immediatel}'- after, ma’am.” 

“ Then this has just occurred ? ” 

“ Hot ten minutes ago, ma’am. Anything else^ 
ma’am ? ” 

“ Ko,” answered the lady. And the girl withdrew. 


170 


THE bride’s fate. 


Drusilla called Pina to follow her and went slowly into 
her bed-room. 

While taking off her bonnet and mantle and changing 
her dress for dinner, she was scarcely conscious of \yhat she 
was doing. Her thoughts were absorbed by what had just 
occurred. 

Poor Alick,” she said; “to love his chil<j, his only son 
and only child, and not feel free to caress him ! Oh, Alick, 
Alick, dear, do you think 1 would keep him from you ? 
Much as I love him, you might have him half the time ; 
you might have him all day, so that you would be kind to 
him, and I know you would be, and would let me have him 
back at night. Yes, Alick, dear, though you might never 
see or speak to me again, I would not keep the child out 
of your way. Love your boy, Alick, dear, and take all the 
comfort from him you can. He has been a great comfort 
to me, Alick, the little son you gave me, has.’’ 

So ran her thoughts as she mechanically put on a mauve 
taffeta dress and fastened her point lace collar with a dia- 
mond brooch, scarcely knowing what she wore. 

Pina was also holding discourse, but not with herself or 
in silence. 

“ My precious little pet,” she said, as she dressed Master 
Lenny in his embroidered white frock. “ My pretty little 
darling, did its Pea-nut leave it all alone with a stranger in 
a strange land, where Killchristians go about scalping little 
babies, my sugar? I will never leave it alone again as 
long as I live, or leastways as long as we stay in this land, 
where Killchristians cut and hew at babies ! Suppose he 
had cut off its precious little finger or toe ? What would 
its Pea-nut have done?” Then turning impatiently to 
her mistress, she said : 

“ Ma’am, you don’t seem to care at all now about that 
wild beast of a Killchristian rushing in upon little Lenny 
like a North American Indian with a drawn knife and 


ARRIVAL. 


171 


scalping off his hair. Suppose it had been his precious 
nose or his ears that the savage took a fancy to ? But it’s 
my belief after all he was a thief and wanted to sell Len- 
ny’s pretty golden curls to a lady’s hair-dresser ; and he 
would have cut all the curls off his head if he hadn’t heard 
me coming. Wish I had caught him at his tricks ! Never 
mind, let me ever catch him near little Lenny again, that’s 
all! Lenny will be certain to know him again, if I do 
not ! ” 

You will know him, Pina ; hut you do not know of 
whom you are speaking. The gentleman who cut off Len- 
ny’s curl had a perfect right to do so. Lord Killcrichtoun 
is Mr. Alexander Lyon, or was so until he got his ancestor’s 
title. Why should you be so astonished ? Didn’t you 
know that he was in London ? ” 

Yes, ma’am,” said Pina, unable to recover from her 
astonishment ; “ but London is a biggish willage, and I 
didn’t expect to see him, much less hear him called Kill- 
christian. Howsever, I think, begging of your pardon, 
ma’am, as the name suits him very well. ’Deed it’s much 
of a muchness with the other name, for I reckon as lions 
kills Christians, and eats ’em too, whenever they get a 
chance ! ” 

“ Pina, you hurt me when you speak in that way of Len- 
ny’s hither.” (A less gentle spirit w'ould have said to her 
servant you offend me.” But Drusilla had much more 
tenderness than dignity in her nature and manners.) 

“ 1 am sorry, ma’am. Indeed, ma’am, I would rather 
bite off the end of my tongue than let it say anything to 
hurt you,” replied Pina. 

“ Now notice then, my good girl. It may happen that 
you may see Mr. Lyon some time when j^ou are out with 
little Lenny. If ^ou should, you must not avoid him. On 
the contrary, take the child to him. It will be good to pro- 
mote affection between the child and his father.” 


172 


THE bride’s fate. 


1 will do as you say, ma’am.” 

Drusilla then went into the parlor to join her friends at 
dinner. But she said nothing of Lenny’s adventure. 

“This evening,” said General Lyon, “we go to old 
classic Drury Lane. And to-morrow for the Derby.” 

Drusilla’s heart heat — hut her only, or at least her chief 
object in going to the Derby was not to see the great race, 
but to see perhaps — her beloved husband. 


CHAPTEE Xy. 

THE DERBY. 

I have set my life upon a cast, 

And I will a'bide the hazard of the die. — SHAKEsmABB. 

“ Oh, it is drizzling ! I wonder if it is not always driz- 
zling in this whimpering climate,” grumbled Anna, as she 
met Drusilla in their private parlor very early on the morn-’ 
ing of the Derby Day. 

“ It is but a light drizzle ; it will not hurt us and it may 
clear oif,” suggested Drusilla, hopefully. 

“ All ready, my darlings ? That is right, for we must 
make an early start if we wish to get a good position on 
the hill. I don’t know that reserved places are ever taken 
in advance for the Derby ; but I do know that we have not 
secured any. King for breakfast, Anna, my child, and let 
us have it over. But where is Dick ? ” inquired the gen- 
eral, as he joined his young people. 

“ He has stepped around to the livery stable to make sure 
of the barouche we engaged. He will be back in a few 
minutes,” replied Anna. 

“ He might have left that to the servants j but Dick can’t 


THE DERBY. 


173 


keep out of a stable, if only he has the faintest shadow of 
an excuse to go into one. Well — he might go into worse 
places,” said the general, just as the absentee returned. 

“ A strong, well sprung, capacious barouche and a fine 
pair of horses ! Altogether as good a turn-out as is to be 
had for love or money,” said Dick, as he threw himself into 
a chair. 

“ But what is that you have there ? ” inquired the gen- 
eral, pointing to a well-sized parcel rolled up in tissue paper 
which Mr. Hammond carried in his hands. 

This ! Oh, this contains our veils,” answered Dick, 
unrolling the parcel and displaying yards of blue, green, 
mauve, brown and gray barege. 

Our — what ? ” 

^Weils for the Derby. I saw other fellows buying veils 
and they told me it was the usual thing to keep off the 
dust, you know. There, Anna, there’s a blue one for you. 
Heedii’t take the trouble to hem it ; nobody does j it is only 
to be used for one occasion, and is never fit for anything 
else afterwards. Here, Drusa, you may have the green 
one ; and little Lenny the mauve ; and now, uncle, here 
are two — a gray and a brown, for you and me. I thought 
you would like a subdued color best, as I do. We are to 
tie them around our hats,” said Dick, offering the choice of 
the remaining veils to the general. 

The veteran soldier laughed and shook his head, 

‘‘But, uncle, every gentleman w^ears a veil.” 

“ Nonsense, Dick ! somebody has been selling you.” 

“ Indeed, no, they were all buying veils and fastening 
them on to their hats.” 

“ Then I’ll be hanged if I make myself ridiculous by 
wearing a veil like a girl.” 

“ Well, then, you’ll get yourself blinded,’ deafened, stu- 
pefied and suffocated by the dust — eyes, ears, nostrils and 
bronchial tubes will all be filled.” 


174 


THE bride’s fate. 


should like to know where the dust is to come from 
on such a daj^ as this ? Do you see how it is raining? ” 

Don’t know, sir ! only know what the fellows here tell 
me.” 

They are quizzing you, as I said before, that’s my 
opinion.” 

While he spoke the door was opened and Mr. Spencer and 
Mr. Tredegar were announced. 

These were two young Americans, who had been fellow- 
students with Dick Hammond, and whom the general had 
met on the day before and invited to breakfast and to go to 
the Derby with his party. 

After bowing to the ladies and shaking hands with the 
gentlemen, the new-comers took the seats offered them, and 
commenced upon the all-engrossing subject of the hour. 

Fine day for the Derby, sir ! ” said Mr. Spencer, who 
had been three j’^ears in London attached to the American 
Minister’s suite, and might be supposed to be posted on the 
subject. Very fine day for the Derby.” 

Fine day ! Why, do you see how it is raining ? ” de- 
manded the general, in surprise. 

“Drizzling, sir, drizzling; just enough to lay the dust.” 

“ Dust ! ah ! by the way that reminds me ! Here is a 
lunatic has brought in an assortment of veils, and he says 
we must each wear one — men and women both.” 

“ Oh, yes, sir — the regular thing, you know, like the train 
at court. It is to protect the wearer from the smothering 
dust.” 

“ But,” said the general, frowning, “ as I was just asking 
my nephew when you came in, where is the dust to come 
from on such a day as this ? ” 

“ Oh, sir, it may clear up by the time we shall be coming 
home. And it is in the home-coming we raise the sirocco. 
We must be prepared for the worst.” 

Worst ? Do you call clear weather the wor.st ? ** 


THE DE RUT. 


175 


** The worst possible for the Derby, sir. But this is a 
truth that you will never be able to believe until you see it 
demonstrated. And you will probably see it done to-day/^ 

As they talked, the waiter came in to lay the cloth for 
breakfast. 

Watching his opportunity, he presently came to General 
Lyon, and said, in a low, respectful voice : 

“ Beg pardon, sir, but would you like to have a luncheon 
put up to take with you ? ” 

‘•Eh? Yes, certainly,” replied the general, at the same 
time turning towards his young visitors a comically appeal- 
ing look, as much as to say : 

“You see even this waiter knows me to be a green- 
horn.” 

“What would you please to order, sir ? ” inquired John. 

“ Eh ? — oh, anything at all ! something nice and tidy.” 

“ Pigeon-pie, sir, if you please ? ” 

“ Spencer, is pigeon-pie the regular thing ? ” said the 
general, winking at his friend. 

“ I believe it is one of the regular things. Derby Day 
without pigeon pie would be — an incomplete arrangement.” 

“ Well, Spencer, my dear boy, as you are posted, please 
receive my carte blanche to order all the ‘ regular things,^ 
and everything else that is comfortable.” 

Young Spencer nodded and laughed; took from the gen- 
eral’s hand a card and a pencil, and made out a liberal list, 
w'hich he handed to the waiter, saying : 

“ See that all these articles are put into clean hampers, 
and stowed away in the boxes of the general’s barouche.” 

The man left the room with the list, and returned with 
the breakfast tray. 

And the family party and their visitors sat down to the 
table. 

Anna presided. 

“ Where is my god-son ? ” inquired the general, discon* 
tented at the absence of his favorite. 


176 THE bride’s fate. 

He had his breakfast in my room, an hour ago, so that 
he might be got ready to go with us,” said Hrusilla. 

Ah ! yes, well, I suppose under the circumstances it 
was as well,” admitted the general. 

Before they had done breakfast, however, Master Lenny 
was led in by his nurse. 

He was resplendent in holiday attire and in the anticipa- 
tion of some unknown glory that had been promised him, 
and for which he saw great preparations going forward, 
and which he called in his baby-babble “ doin’ Dubby.” 

“ Doin’ Dubby, untie dranpa ! Lenny doin’ Dubby, hee 
hos wun,” he said, running up to his godfather. 

Lenny is going to the Derby to see the horses run, is 
be ? But Lenny will be the winning horse. I’ll bet,” said 
the general, taking the little fellow up on his knee. Gen- 
tlemen,” he added, turning to his young visitors, let me 
introduce you to Master Leonard Lyon, the latest represen- 
tative of old Leonard Lyon, who — ” 

“ ‘ Came over with the Conqueror,’ ” suggested Mr. Tred- ^ 
egar. 

Who lived here long before the Conqueror was born,” 
concluded the general, quietly. “ Leonard, my boy, bow to 
the gentlemen, and ask them how they do, and say that 
you hope they are well.” 

“ Hope . — Do Dubby,” said Lenny, who could not connect 
his sentences very well as yet, holding out his chubby 
hand to Mr. Spencer, who was nearest. 

Grand-pa, we will leave Lenny to help you entertain 
your friends while we put on our bonnets and mantles,” 
said Anna, rising from the table, followed by Drusilla. 

“ And so Master Leonard is going to the Derby ? He 
is beginning life early, — he is a very fast young gentle- 
-man,” said Mr. Tredegar, taking the child upon his knee. 

Lenny doin’ Dubby— hee hos wun,” was the stereo- 
typed answer of the boy. 


THE DERBY. 


177 


But he was taken from one by the other, and prattled 
sociably to all until the return of the ladies dressed for 
their drive. 

Now, Mr. Spencer, you are not in earnest about these 
veils? I am not to decorate Dick’s and grand-pa’s hats 
with them, am I ? ” laughed Anna, lifting the light cloud- 
like pile of barege. 

‘^Oh, no; not just yet ! not until they shall he required. 
It has ceased drizzling, but the ground is still too damp for 
dust. They can be rolled up and put into their pockets 
until wanted.” 

Here, grand-pa, here is yours,” said Anna, rolling up 
the gray veil lightlj^, and handing it. 

^‘No, thank you, my dear. Dust or no dust, I am not 
going to wear a veil. I would just as soon wear a crino- 
line ! ” 

‘^Put it in your own pocket, my dear Mrs. Hammond, 
and have it ready for him when he will want it. He will 
be glad enough to get it by-and-by,” said Prancis Trede- 
gar. 

Anna took his advice. 

“ And now are we all quite ready ? ” inquired the gen- 
eral. 

“ Quite,” answered everybody else. 

Then, come ! ” 

And he took Drusilla’s hand, and drew it within his arm, 
and led the way down stairs. 

A large, open barouche, with a fine pair of horses, stood 
waiting the general’s family. A jaunty gig with a spirited 
horse awaited the two young gentlemen. 

Drusilla and Anna were handed into the back seat. The 
general sat in front, and by his side sat Pina with little 
Lenny. Dick perched himself up beside the driver. 
Jacob rode behind. The two young men were in their gig. 

11 


178 THE bkide’s fate. 

The party started — the general’s barouche taking the 
lead. 

The drizzling rain had ceased and the clouds were dis- 
persing before a light wind. 

The streets of London, always crowded, were now 
thronged } but with this difference also, — that nine-tenths 
of the people’s faces and the horses’ heads were turned in 
one direction, and everybody, — man, woman, and child, 
saint and sinner, — was becoming more and more intoxicat- 
ed j and not with spirituous or fermented liquors, but with 
the Derby Day. Crow'ded carriages of all descriptions, 
saddle-horses, donkeys, and foot-passengers of all ranks 
and sexes, thronged the streets ; and talk and laughter, calls 
and shouts resounded through the air. It looked as if Lon- 
don were suddenly being evacuated hy its whole population, 
and the people were making a merr}’- joke of the matter. 
And all were pouring towards the south-western suburb. 

In such a throng the progress of our party was necessa- 
rily very slow, yet with none of the tedium of a slow prog- 
ress. The great crowd of people and of vehicles going all 
one way ; the variety of individuals and characters ; the 
total abandonment of all reserve ; the bailings and the 
chaffings ; the jests and the snatches of song ; the grotesque 
decorations of some of the horses and carriages, and even 
of £ome of the people ; the perfect novelty of the scene ; 
and the exhilaration of all animated creatures that com- 
posed it, made every step of the progress charming to the 
unaccustomed minds and eyes of our new-comers. 

Drusilla and Anna were delighted. Little Lenny 
shouted. Pina was not a whit behind them in her ecstacies. 
Old General Lyon’s eyes twinkled and lips smiled, and some- 
times he broke into a good hearty laugh. As for Dick, the 
oldest Derby goer on the road could not have got a-head of 
him in bandying back the jokes that were bandied at him 
on the way. Only that Jacob, hanging on behind, stared 


THE DERBY. 179 

with all his eyes,” and looked as if he thought he was 
enjoying a pleasant sort of nightmare. 

I say, you jolly old howl (owl),” called a cockney from 
a neighboring carriage to General Lyon, “ where did you 
get that gorilla youVe got perched up behind there, heh ? ” 

From a country where they muzzle monkies sometimes,” 
retorted Dick, answering for the general. 

So it went on. 

But this is nothing at all to -what it will he when we 
are out of London and fairly on to the Epsom road,” 
shouted Henry Spencer from his gig behind. 

I never saw the Carnival at Kome ; but I should think 
it was not very unlike this,” said the general. 

“This is the Carnival of London! Old Borne had its 
Saturn-alia; modern Borne has its Carnival; America has 
her Independence Day ; hut England has her Derby, equal 
to all these others rolled into one,” said Francis Tredegar. 

“If this is only the beginning, it is worth crossing the 
Atlantic to see — not the Derby race only, but the Derby 
Day 1 ” said the General. 

“ Only wait till you get to Epsom I ” exclaimed Henry 
Spencer. 

Once fairly upon the Epsom road, our friends found it as 
their guests had predicted. The crowd, great as it had 
been before, was even greater now. And it thickened with 
every mile ; the numbers of passengers increasing two fold, 
ten fold, a hundred fold, as they approached the bourne of 
their journey. 

The road was as one vast river of human beings and 
brute creatures, pouring its multitudes towards Epsom. 
And every cross country road was as a tributary stream 
helping to swell the flood. 

Every description of wheeled vehicles known to the civil- 
ized world — broughams, barouches, landeaus, chaises, bug- 
gies, sulkies, gigs, rockaways, carryalls, omnibuses, stages, 


180 


THE bride’s fate. 


brakes, carts, drags, wagons, jaunting cars, in an endless 
number and variety, and drawn by every available species 
of quadrupeds — horses, mules, donkeys, goats, dogs, oxen — 
thronged and crushed and pressed together for miles and 
miles behind and before on the main road and up and down 
every branch road — crowding towards Epsom. 

In this vast, moving, mixed multitude the only saving 
feature was this, that they were all moving the same way, 
and all, or nearly all, in high good humor. 

Pressed on all sides as they were — behind, before, on the 
right and on the left, our friends in the barouche and their 
young guests in the gig, managed to keep together ; — some- 
times brought to a stand still, sometimes moving on at the 
rate of an inch a minute. 

“ Now you understand why it was necessary to start so 
early, though Epsom is but fourteen miles from London, 
and though the great race does not come off before two 
o’clock,” called out young Spencer. 

Yes ; and I begin to see the wisdom of those who went 
down to Epsom last night to avoid all this,” answered the 
general. 

“ Ah, but they were either old stagers who had experi- 
enced this sort of thing many times before, or else individ- 
uals who had some deep stake in the races to come off to- 
day. Eor my own part, I enjoy the going and returning — • 
the ‘ road,’ in short, quite as much as anything else apper- 
taining to the great Derby Day.” 

“ It is a novel and interesting sight, in its contrasts if in 
nothing else,” replied the general, glancing from the hand- 
some barouche decorated with a duke’s coronet painted on 
its panels, and occupied by an aristocratic party of stately 
men and elegant women, in splendid apparel, that crowded 
him on the right — to the old dilapidated omnibus, filled 
within and without with the ragged refuse of the London 
streets and alleys, which pressed him on the left. 


THE DERBY. 181 

But truth to tell, the ragamuffins seemed the merrier, if 
not the richer party of the two. 

And many jests flew over General Lyon’s head between 
the Bohemians in the old omnibus and a young member of 
the ducal family who occupied a seat on the box beside the 
coachman. Bor that one day “ free-born Britons ” of every 
rank enjoyed something like liberty and equality — not to 
say unbridled license. 

“ Hey day ! what’s the matter now ? ” exclaimed the 
general, as the whole immense march, with much rearing 
Sind plunging of quadrupeds, came to a dead halt. 

“ There’s a lock at the turnpike gate, sir,” called out a 
vagrant from the old ’bus. 

“A lock on the toll-gate! It’s a shame,” replied the 
innocent old gentleman ; the gate should never be locked 
in the day-time, and most especially on such a day as this, 
when they must keep such a vast multitude of people 
waiting while they unlock it.” 

This speech was greeted by a burst of ironical applause 
from all the occupants of the old omnibus, as well as from 
all others who heard it. They laughed at the speaker and 
chaffed him. 

^^You change all that when you get into parliament,” 
sang out one. 

“ I say ! what’s your name, you jolly old soul ? Is it old 
King Cole ? ” inquired another. 

Then all in the old omnibus sang out together: 

“ Old King Cole was a jolly old soul, 

And a jolly old soul was he — 

He called for his bottle, and he called for his bowl, 

And he called for his comrades three ! ” 

“ Dick, what the dence have I said wrong ? What do 
they mean ? ” inquired the general, much annoyed at find- 
ing himself the centre of observation. 

<< You have said nothing wrong, and they mean nothing 


182 


THE bride’s fate. 


offensive. It is the Derby Day ! That accounts for all 
don’t you see ?” answered Dick, laughing. 

“ But about the lock. They were chaffing me about 
tliatP 

“ Oh, you know that there is now more than one lock at 
every turnpike gate. There is the legitimate lock under 
the charge of the keeper ; and there is a lock of interlocked 
carriage wheels, reaching, perhaps, for ten miles along the 
road.” 

I knew once a lock of fourteen miles long, all caused by 
an ill-conditioned fellow in a brougham, who stopped the 
way at the toll-gate for twenty minutes, disputing about his 
change,” said the young gentleman who was seated beside 
the coachman on the right-hand carriage ; for on this 
latitudinarian day English reserve was laid aside, and 
strangers spoke together as familiar friends. 

But the general’s fine barouche was the centre of obser- 
vation just now, and all on account of the general’s 

gorilla footman,” as the Bohemians called young Jacob. 

Unluckily for his peace to-day, Jacob, with one of the 
best hearts in the world, and a tolerably good brain, 
possessed all the peculiar features of his race. He had the 
low, receding forehead, broad, flat nose, wide, full lips, and 
small, retiring chin, jet black skin, and crisp, w^oolly hair of 
the pure Guinea negro — all of which was likely to render 
him an object of great amusement to the malicious crowd, 
and annoj’-ance to his master and friends. 

I say, old cove, you show it free now, like the circus 
men do the clowns when they go in procession ; but how 
much are you going to charge a head to see it when you 
get it in a booth on Epsom Heath ? ” called out one. 

“ Marster ! ” cried J acob, half crying and ready to swear 
— Marster ! only let me, and I’ll jump down and lick the 
lot of ’em ! ” 

Oh, I say, fellows, it can talk ! ” cried another. 


THE DERBY. 


183 


Let me at ’em ! ” begged Jacob. 

Nonsense, my boy ! You’d get trampled to death 
under the horses’ feet before you could grapple with any of 
them. They mean no harm. It is the Derby Day. Give 
them back as good as they send.” 

“ But I haven’t got it in me,” sobbed Jake. 

Oh ! yes you have. Let ’em have it ! ” 

But Jake’s idea of letting ’em have it ” was of a more 
substantial sort than mere words. Stooping down, he 
armed himself with a couple of ale bottles, and flourishing 
one in each hand, he threatened one and all of his aggres- 
sors. 

“ Eh ! eh ! is it growing vicious ? ” called out some one 
with a shout of laughter. 

The ale bottle flew from Jake’s right hand and knocked 
off the hat of the speaker. 

“ Oh, I say ! look here ! none of that now, you know ! 
that’s carrjdng things a little too far even for the Derby 
Day ! ” exclaimed the bare-headed individual, groping in 
vain for his hat, but keeping his good humor. 

“ Oh ! see here, governor ! Here’s your ape getting 
dangerous ! chain it hup before it ’urts some un ! ” sang out 
another. 

Away flew the other ale bottle and struck this counsellor 
in the chest and knocked him heels over head. 

Hi ! ho ! here ! where’s the police ! ” caMed out a half 
score of voices. 

But the police, were not forthcoming, and the floored man 
picked himself up, laughing merrily and saying good- 
humoredly : 

‘‘ Boys, we’re getting the worst of it ! Better let the 
gorilla alone ! ” 

But the general turned to his coachman, frowning : 

J acob, I am ashamed of you ! Here a set of poor 


184 THE bride’s fate. 

fellows out for their rare holiday chaffing you a little with 
harmless words, and you answer them with hard blows I ” 

“ You told me to ^ let ’em have it,’ muttered J ake. 

But not in blows ; in words, you stupid fellow ! ” 

I couldn’t answer ’em so.” 

“ But suppose they retorted in kind? They can throw 
missiles as well as you can.” 

They are welkim ! ” grumbled J ake, 

What, and hurt and may be kill the ladies ? Jake I 
I’m more ashamed of you than ever.” 

A commotion in the crowd ahead, a gradual unloosening 
of the lock of wheels, warned our travellers that the way 
was clear, and carriages of all sorts moved on, at first 
slowly, and then as the throng thinned more rapidly, until 
it began to look like the multitudinous race of fast trotting 
horses in harness on the Bloomingdale Boad. 

And the quiet “chaffing” became hilarious shouting as 
one after another of fast drivers distanced all competitors. 
And now indeed the Derby dust arose in clouds like the 
sirocco of the desert until every man and mother’s son had 
to put on a veil. 

Old General Lyon resisted the fate as long as he could, 
until, as Harry Spencer had predicted, his eyes, ears, 
nostrils and bronchial tubes v^ere all so much obstructed 
that he was nearly blinded, deafened, suffocated and over- 
whelmed. Then he let Anna dust off his face and head 
with an extra pocket-handkerchief, and tie a gray veil 
about his hat, as they drove on. 

“ I wish some sort of a veil could be contrived to protect 
these hedges,” said Anna, pointing to the boundaries of the 
road on the right and left. “It is a sin to cover these 
lovely green hedges with a thick coat of dust. But, oh, 
grand-pa ! look, there’s poetry for j^ou ! look at that sign ! ” 

The old gentleman turned and smiled to see a rural look- 
ing wjyside inn, embowered in creeping vines and running 


THE DERBY. 185 

roses, and overshadowed by trees, and bearing the inscrip- 
tion in two lines of rhyme : 

“ Good Beer 
Sold Here.” 

A little group of foot passengers to the Derby were sitting 
on a bench under a spreading tree, testing the qualities of 
the said good beer.” 

This and many other simple little way-side scenes, illus- 
trative of English rural road-side life, which the occasional 
opening of the crowd allowed them to catch a glimpse of, 
remained as pleasant pictures in the gallery of memory to 
contemplate in after-days. 

They were now ascending a graduated hill ; when they 
reached its summit they were comparatively free from the 
crowd. The carriages before them had gone rapidly on 
downward ; the carriages behind them were coming slowly 
up. 

Order your coachman to draw up here, general. We 
are near Epsom, and from this rising ground, by standing 
up in your carriage and using yoUr field-glass, you may 
take a bird’s-eye view of Epsom Hill and Heath, with its 
surroundings,” said Mr. Tredegar, adding example to pre- 
cept by stopping his own horse. 

The general gave orders in accordance with this advice, 
and then mounted on his seat, and levelled his field-glass. 

Good Heavens ! ” he exclaimed, in his unbounded 
amazement. 

Under his eyes lay a scene of its kind not to be equalled 
in this world. 

There w^ere from four to five hundred thousand people of 
all ranks, sexes, ages, and conditions, — some with their 
horses, carriages, and liveried servants ; others with their 
donkey-carts, and tents, and wares for sale ; others again 
with only their own weary limbs and haggard faces, and 
fluttering rags, — all gathered together on the hill and 


186 


THE bride’s fate 


heatli of Epsom, or pressing thither by every highway lead- 
ing from every point of the compass. 

I never expected to see such a crowd this side of the 
Judgment day ! ” said General Lyon, as he resigned the 
glass to Anna and assisted her to rise on the seat. 

Anna gazed long and thoughtfully at the w'onderful 
scene, and then she said ; 

^‘But it reminds one of the Judgment day in something 
else beside its great crowd — here, as on that coming day, 
saint and sinner, prince and beggar stand together as they 
will stand there ! It is an exciting and a depressing scene, 
grand-pa,” she said, as she restored the glass and resumed 
her seat. 

Drusilla next arose to take a view. And she was no 
doubt as deeply impressed by the vastness of the multitude 
aasemhled before her as her uncle and cousin had been, hut 
her chief thought was still, 

‘^How shall I ever be able to catch a glimpse of my 
Alick in such a boundless crowd, as this ? ” 

Dick was standing by her side, using his own field-glass. 

Worth crossing the Ocean to see, is it not, Drusa?” 
he asked. 

Yes ; even though we know little of horses, and less of 
races, and least of all which is likely to win the Derby.” 

^ Fairy Queen,’ is the favorite, believe.” 

“ What did you say, Dick ? ” 

I say Mr. Chisholm Cheke’s ‘ Fairy Queen ’ is the 
favorite ? ” 

What favorite ? Whose favorite ? ” 

Tut, Drusa ! Why the favorite of the turf, of the 
stables, and of the betting men ! The horse upon whose 
success the most money is staked, the one that is expected 
to win the Derby ? ” 

But if every body knows which horse is likely to win 
the Derby, why does any one ever bet on any other ? ” 


THE DERBY. 


187 


Ah ! that I can’t tell,” said Dick, shrngging his shoul- 
ders. Only this, — the favorite does not always win, in 
fact seldom does, I think ; it is generally some dark horse 
that wins the race.” 

“Dark horse? Do the dark ones run better than the 
light ones ? ” 

“ Oh, Drusa, what a novice you are, my child ! I don’t 
mean a dark-colored horse; I mean a horse kept dark, 
perdu; in retirement, that nobody talks about or hears 
about, except certain knowing ones.” 

“ And does the dark horse always win ? ” 

“ No, not always, hut often ; sometimes some intermedi- 
ate, honest horse, that is neither bragged about on the one 
hand, nor ‘ kept dark ’ on the other, surprises everybody 
by winning the race, and also occasionally the favorite 
wins.” 

“Well, we will not bet; we are all conscientiously op- 
posed to betting ; but if we were not, we should stake our 
money upon the dark horse. But how would we know 
him ? ” 

“We shouldn’t know him at all ; none but the few in 
the secret would know him.” 

“ Come, come, my children, we are being left behind,” 
said the general, impatiently. 

“ And I do not care much for the winning horse, and 
that is the truth. But I care a great deal for the human 
interest in this vast scene ! Will the Derby ever go down 
and pass away, like the other glories of this world ? And 
will we say to our great grandchildren in the Derby of 
their days : ^ Ah, you should have seen the Derby as it was 
when we were young ! Shall we talk so to our descend- 
ants, Dick ? ” 

“ Goodness know^s ! The Derby may continue to 
increase in importance ; it ought to do so ; I hope it may,” 
replied Dick, as he resumed his seat. 


188 


THE BRIBERS FATE. 


Jacob started his horses, and they drove down the hill 
at a very rapid rate. 

On each side of the road were now to he seen the dust- 
brown tents of the gipsy wanderers ; the decorated booths 
of the showmen j the tempting fruit-stalls of the coster- 
mongers ; and among them all, groups of country people 
and knots of cockneys, and all the heterogeneous assembly 
of bipeds and quadrupeds that on the Derby Day infest 
the neighborhood of Epsom. 

Slowly making their way through all these, our party 
reached and passed the first barrier (for Epsom Heath is 
divided off into circles, the entrance to each succeeding one 
towards the hill or the Grand Stand, commanding a higher 
and higher price). 

Our friends found themselves upon the heath, that was 
occupied by very much the same sort of crowd which had 
obstructed the roads leading hither. It was dotted all over 
by gipsies’ tents, fruit-stalls, refreshment-stands, costomon- 
gers’ carts, and so forth, and so forth, and animated by 
idlers, loafers, peddlers, ballad-singers, image-boys, fortune- 
tellers, confidence ” men, and women, thieves, gamblers, 
and, in short, every variety of the lower order of human 
nature. 

Passing through all these — passing barrier after barrier, 
and circle after circle, our party at last found themselves 
upon the fine breezy and commanding hill, which was com- 
paratively free from the crowd, and occupied only by the 
carriages of the nobility and gentry, filled with fair women 
and well-behaved men. 


THE GIPSIES. 


189 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE GIPSIES. 

“Theirs is the deep lore of the olden time, 

And in it are fine mysteries of the stars 
^ Solved with a cunning wisdom, and strange thoughts. 

Half prophecy, half poetry, and dreams 
Clearer than truth, and speculations wild 
That touched the secrets of your very soul.” 

The general and his friends selected the best front sites 
that were left vacant, and had their carriages turned around 
and the horses taken from them and led away to distant 
stalls and fodder. 

Then all re-seated themselves and looked around them. 

What a sight ! what a crowd ! what a turmoil ! Ear as 
the eye could reach on every side a turbulent sea of 
humanity ! 

Where could the people all have sprung from ? Had 
London emptied itself of its population upon Epsom 
Heath ? Had Paris, St. Petersburg and all the great con- 
tinental cities contributed their thousands ? Had earth 
given up her dead and ocean her prey to swell this crowd ? 

At first, as I said, all seemed but a turbulent sea of 
human beings ; but gradually individual images came out 
of the confusion. 

Most prominent among these was the Grand Stand, an 
elevated and railed platform or gallery where the gamblers 
in horseflesh congregated to make up their betting-books 
and watch the race. 

And most interesting especially to ladies, was the Royal 
Box, with its cushioned seats, surmounted by its crown and 
canopy of state all in burning scarlet and gold. Neither 
the queen nor any of the princesses occupied the Royal 
Box ; only three or four of the princes, with their lords in 
waiting, were present. 


190 


THE bride’s fate. 


Yet toward that box many field-glasses were levelled— 
Anna’s among the rest, for — 

“ A substitute shines brightly as a king, 

Until a king be by.” 

And failing the queen’s presence, the queen’s sons were 
objects of absorbing interest. 

“ Neither Victoria nor any of the princesses are here,’’ 
said Anna, lowering her glass with a look of disappoint- 
ment. 

• The queen nor the princesses ever come to the Derby. 
You may see them at the Ascot Eaces, however, which are 
considered more aristocratic, though very much less famous 
and popular than these,” replied Mr. Spencer, who had 
left his seat in the gig to come and stand beside General 
Lyon’s barouche and talk to the young people. 

Anna next criticized the splendid dresses of the ladies 
who filled the open carriages on this hill ; and for no occa- 
sion do ladies dress more splendidly than for the Derby 
Day. 

“ Good gracious ! Half the milliners’ and jewellers’ 
establishments in London and Paris must be emptied of 
their contents,” she exclaimed, as her eyes roved over the 
various and dazzling display. 

Out from the seething mass of humanity on the heath 
lelow came other individual pictures. Here and there a 
poor little pale, hollow-cheeked boy creeping feebly along 
and peering hungrily about for stray crusts and bones, or 
apple parings, and orange peel, dropped from the luncheon 
hamper of some prosperous feeder ; now and then some 
grandly beautiful woman whose flaunting dress and inso- 
lent air proclaimed her a very far fallen angel ; here and 
there some sunny-eyed child of Italy picking up a few 
pennies by singing the “ wild songs of his dear native 
'and,” and everywhere a leather-visaged gipsy crone trying 


THE GIPSIES. 


191 


to improve her cvn fortunes by telling other people’s; 
everywhere professors of all sorts of irregular arts and 
sciences ; everywhere traders in all kinds of contraband 
goods and chattels ; and everywhere were the “ efficient 
police force ” trying very successfully not to keep order ; 
trying very hard not to interfere with the lawful or unlaw- 
ful practices of the poor, on this one gracious day of their 
license and their happiness. A pickpocket, if detected, 
would be arrested, of course ; hut as for the rest, gipsies 
might tell fortunes, and beggars beg, and starving little 
children pilfer, with none to punish them less merciful 
than the All-Father. 

There was so much to see ! such an infinite variety of 
life ! The Derby race, though the greatest feature of the 
day, was not a thousandth part of the sights. If no race 
had come off, the assembly itself was well worth coming to 
see, and sitting through a whole day to study. 

Anna, Drusilla and General Lyon, were well content to 
occupy their seats and spend their time in calmly contem- 
plating the scene before them. 

But the three young men, Dick, Spencer and Tredegar, 
wished to mingle with the active life below, and so, making 
an excuse to go and get cards of the race they bowed and 
left the hill and soon disappeared in the crowd on the 
heath. 

Many other gentlemen who were in attendance upon the 
ladies on the hill, also left their carriages and went down ; 
others wdio had been down were now coming up ; — so that 
there was a continual moving about of foot-passengers. 

Look, look, Drusilla ! there is a gipsy telling fortunes 
at that crrriage next but one to us, on the left ! Grand-pa, 
when she has finished there, do beckon her to come here ! ” 
eagerly exclaimed Anna. 

Konsense, my child ! you never want the crone to tell 
your fortune ! ” 


192 


THE bride’s fate. 


Oh, yes, but I do indeed ! ” exclaimed Anna, excit- 
edly. 

“ Tut, tut ! you don’t believe in such tomfoolery ! ” 

No, I don’t believe in it of course ; but I want to hear 
what the gipsy will have to say to me for all that. Do 
watch her, grand-pa ; and, as soon as she has done with those 
ladies call her here. Consider, I never saw a gipsy except 
upon the stage — never saw a real gipsy in my life before, 
and may never have a chance of seeing one again ! Oh, 
do call her here, grand-pa, as soon as she is at liberty ! ” 

‘‘Well, well, my dear, you have the right to make a 
goose of yourself if you please, and I will help you to do 
BO. I will beckon her presently.” 

“ Ah, there’s Dick come back ! Dick, come here, I want 
you ! ” called Anna. 

And Dick, who had left his companions among their bet- 
ting friends and returned to the hill alone, now came up to 
the carriage. 

“ Dick, I’m so glad 3mu’ve come back ! There’s a gipsy 
telling fortunes at that carriage — I want you to bring her 
here to tell ours.” 

“Absurdity, Anna dear! you cannot mean to counte- 
nance such impostors ? ” 

“ Oh, Dick, that is so uncharitable ! How do you know 
they are impostors ? How do you know but that they be- 
lieve in their own art ? ” 

“ Do you believe in it ? ” 

“ No ; but I want to have some fun out of the gips3^” 

“ Ver\' well ; I consent, provided it is meant in jest and 
not in earnest.” 

“ And here, Dick, let us put the gipsy’s powers to a test. 
You come in and sit down by me — then take little Lenny 
in your arms and play papa. Little Lenny being fair and 
flaxen-haired and blue-eyed, with all the Lyon features, is 
much more like me than like his own mother, whom 'n 


THE GIPSIES. 


193 


truth he does not at all resemble, and he will easily be 
taken for ours. And the more easily because you and I look 
as if wa. had reached years of discretion, while Drusilla 
Beems but a child. Let us play a trick on the gipsy, and 
ask her to foretell our boy’s future.” 

Ha ! ha ! ha ! that will be good ! ” 

Kot one word of the conversation since Dick’s return did 
Drusilla hear — with her field-glass raised to her eyes, she 
was gazing at a particular point on the Grand Stand ; for, 
even in that boundless crowd, her love had discovered her 
Alick — but, ah, discovered him among the desperate gam- 
blers of the betting ring ! 

She was blind and deaf to everything else. 

Meanwhile the gipsy had drawn something nearer to 
the General’s barouche. She was in fact standing beside 
the very next carriage, trying to wheedle the occupants 
to have their fortunes told ; but they all — a circle of de- 
mure women — sternly warned the sibyl off and threat- 
ened her with the police, at which she laughed and shook 
her crisp, black curls. 

The police would not trouble a poor gipsy wife like her- 
self,” she said. 

Then General Lyon bent over the side of his barouche, 
and showing her a broad, silver crown, said : 

Come here, good woman, and tell these young ladies* 
fortunes.” 

Ah, Heaven bless your handsome face, kind gentleman ; 
but I would like to tell yours, too, for a fine fortune it has 
been, and is, and is to be ! ” said the gipsy coming up to 
the carriage. 

She was a small, slight woman, lithe and graceful like all 
her race, with a swarthy and somewhat wrinkled face ; with 
deep-set, brilliant black eyes ; crisply curling, tendril-like 
black hair ; and well-marked black eyebrows. She did not 
wear the traditional red cloak and plaid head kerchief— 
12 


194 


THE bride’s fate. 


those have long passed away even from among her tribe ; 
but she wore rather tawdry and shabby finery — a striped 
skirt, a black shawl, a straw bonnet, trimmed with ribbons 
and flowers of many colors, red predominating. And, upon 
the whole, her appearance was picturesque and pleasing. 
Neither did she address her dupes in the poetic language of 
the ideal gipsy — her words and manner were as real as her- 
self. 

God save you, fair gentlemen ! God save you, sweet 
ladies ! Shall the poor gipsy tell your fortunes ? I see 
good luck in your face, pretty lady ! I see great good 
luck ! Give the poor gipsy a little, little bit of silver to 
cross you hand with, and she will look and see what the 
great good fortune is that is in store for you. Do, pretty 
lady,’’ she pleaded in a very sweet, soft, wheedling tone as 
she held out her hand to Anna. 

Mrs. Hammond dropped a shilling in her palm and, 
smiling, said : 

“ My fortune is already told, good woman, but I want 
you to foretell the future of my dear little son here.” And 
she lifted Lenny from Dick’s arms to her own lap. 

Drusilla wdth a half-suppressed exclamation, now looked 
around. 

But Anna gave her a comically beseeching look, and she 
yielded the point and turned away. 

The gipsy seemed not to notice this little by-play. She 
stood with her hands folded upon her breast and her ej’^es 
fixed upon the ground. 

“ Come, gipsy ! look upon my little son here and read 
his future,” said Anna. 

The gipsy woman raised her glittering black eyes, and, 
smiling, shook her tendril-like black curls and said : 

Ah, pretty, fair lady! You think the poor gips}’- can 
tell what is to wme, yet is so blind she cannot see what is 
now ! — no 1 ” 


THE GIPSIES. 


195 


What do you mean, good woman ? 

The hoy is not j^our son, sweet lady.” 

Not Diy son ! Why, look at him ! He is the very 
image of me ! ” 

He is very like you, pretty lady ; and that shows him 
to he of your race ; hut he is not your son.” 

How do you know that ? ” questioned Anna, beginning 
to wonder at the woman^s knowledge. 

“ By my art. You have no son, sweet lady. You will 
never have a son ; hut ” 

“ Oh, don’t tell me that, gipsy ! I didn’t give you a shil- 
ling to purchase had news.” 

A sovereign will not huy good news unless it is true, 
pretty lady ; and the gipsy’s words are true. I was going 
to tell you, though you have no son, you will have many 
fair daughters, who will live and grow up and marry and 
hear many fine sons, who will grow up and he great men in 
the land.” 

“ This is foretelling the long future with a notable bless- 
ing ! ” laughed Anna. But I wish you had promised 
these fine sons to me instead of to my future daughters. I 
don’t care anything about those very shadowy young ladies. 
I don’t know them.” 

The gipsy turned to Dick, and with her musical whine 
pleaded : 

“ Kind, handsome gentleman, do cross the poor gipsy 
wife’s hand with a little, little hit of silver, for telling all 
about your wife’s daughters and daughters’ sons, who will 
he rulers in the land beyond the sea.” 

“ How do you know that lady is my wife ? ” inquired 
Dick, much astonished. 

“ Ah ! good gentleman, can the gipsy know the future 
and not know the present ? Now, kind, handsome gentle- 
man, give the poor gipsy a hit of silver for good luck — the 
poor gipsy, sweet gentleman ! who sees such great, good 
fortune for you, and none at all for herself ! ” 


196 


THE bride’s fate. 


^^Then she is no true seeress, or she would see this piece 
of good fortune coming to her,” said Dick, as in the large- 
ness of his heart and the extravagance of his habits he put 
into the gipsy’s hands the great American gold coin, the 
double eagle, worth nearly five sovereigns. 

The gipsy had never seen such a coin in her life. It 
inspired her, and for once she broke into something like 
poetry : 

“ Ah, noble gentleman ! you have made the poor gipsy 
rich and happy. Ah ! kind gentleman, may the stars rain 
down blessings on your head as bright as their own beams ! 
May flowers spring up under your footsteps wherever you 
ti«ad ! May — ” 

“ Dick ! ” laughed Anna, breaking into the discourse 
and ».atting short the rhapsody, shall lend you out to 
some of our old neighbors to walk their barren gardens into 
bloom ! ” 

‘^Come,” said Dick, to change the subject — ^^come, 
gipsy, tell iwy little cousin’s fortune, here. Will she live to 
grow up and get married ? ” 

The gipsy turned at his bidding and looked at Drusilla, 
whose childlike face might have deceived eyes less keenly 
penetrating than those of the gipsy seeress. 

‘‘ Cross the poor gipsy’s hand with a little, little bit of 
silver, sweet lady, and let her tell your fortune, my lady ? 
The gipsy sees rare good luck in your pretty face, my 
lady ! ” said the woman, in a wheedling tone. 

•What young creature, unsatisfied and with a deep heart- 
stake in life, is not in some degree a prey to superstition 
and credulity? — is not in secret a would-be diviner of 
dreams, interpreter of omens, consulter of the stars, reader 
of the future ? The restless, longing, impatient heart can 
not wait the slow revelations of time ; it would, with rash 
hand, rend aside the veil and know the worst or best at 


once. 


THE GIPSIES. 


197 


So it was with Drusilla now. She dropped a silver 
crown in the gipsy’s hand, and then, half in faith and half 
in scorn of that misplaced faith, she held out her palm. 

The gipsy glanced slightly at the palm, hut gazed ear- 
nestly in the face of the young matron. 

“ My lady, you have been a wife and you ave a mother ; 
you have had trouble — long trouble for so short a life, and 
great trouble for so gentle a lady ; but it is gone now, and 
it will never come back any more.” 

Thank Heaven for that,” murmured Drusilla. 

But you are not satisfied yet. There is something 
wanted, my lady. You have a hungry, hungry heart, and 
a begging eye. You are longing and famishing for some- 
thing, my lady, and you will get it ; for the hungry heart 
is a mighty heart, and must prevail ; and the begging eye 
is a conquering eye that will overcome. Sweet, m}^ lady, 
grief has gone away, never to come back to you ; and joy 
will soon come, never to leave you.” 

^‘Oh, if I were sure that were true. If I could only 
believe that ! ” exclaimed Drusilla, earnestly. 

“ You may believe it, my lady. You will soon see it.” 

How do you know it ? ” 

By my art,” answered the gipsy. 

And then she turned to General Lyon and said, coax- 
ingly : 

Ah ! kind, handsome gentleman, you will cross the poor 
gipsy’s hand with a little silver to help her, poor thing, and 
she will tell you such a good fortune ! ” 

‘^My fortune is all told these many j^ears past, good 
woman,” said the General, with a sigh that did not escape 
the gipsy’s keen eyes. 

Ah ! don’t say so, good, dear gentleman. You have 
many long and happy years of life to live yet.” 

I am an old man, gipsy ; I have lived out my life.” 

‘^Ah no, noble gentleman, not so. You are in youi 


198 


THE bride’s fate. 


prime. Ah me ! with your grand form and handsome fac^ 
you could make manj’- a sweet, pretty lady’s heart ache yet 
if you chose ; yes, that you could.” 

Come, come, my good woman, that is going a little too 
far,” laughed the General, not displeased. What old gen- 
tleman ever is with a little flattery ? 

It is going a great deal too far, grand-pa. Come now, 
don’t let her he putting courtship and matrimony into your 
head. I won’t have any young grand-mamma set up at Old 
Lyon Hall to lord it over me,” laughed Anna. 

Honsense, my girl ! The only way in which I may 
ever make any lady’s heart ache, will he by getting the 
gout, and growing cross over it, and growling at j’^ou and 
Drusilla from morning until night,” said the General. 

At that moment a policeman stepped up and put his 
hand on the gipsy’s shoulder, saying : 

Come, Gentilly, I have had my eye on you this half 
hour. Move on.” 

Ah, bless the dear blue eyes of him,” coaxed the for- 
tune-teller, turning around and patting the man’s cheeks, 
he’ll never make the poor old gipsy wife move on, now 
that she has come up to her luck — such luck, my darling. 
Only see what the grand, noble young gentleman has 
given the poor gipsy. When the race is over, come up to 
my tent, pet, and have a pot of porter and a plate of hiled 
beef and carrots with his old mother,” she added, patting 
him on the cheek again and turning from him. 

That’s the way, you see, sir — that’s always the way with 
Gentilly,” said the policeman, apologetically, to the old 
gentleman. 

“ You know her ? ” inquired Dick. 

Know Gentilly ? Bless you, sir, every body on the 
race-course knows Gentilly and her sister. Patience.” 

And you know no harm of her, I dare say, although 
you are a police officer.” 


THE GIPSIES. 


199 


"Well, sir, beyond — ” 

" Now he is not going to tell lies on the old gipsy ! — It 
will be three o’clock. Come up at my tent for the biled 
beef and carrots and the pot of porter,” said the fortune- 
teller, laying her hands upon the lips of the police officer. 

At that moment the two young men stepped up. 

Gentilly turned to them immediately. 

Tell your fortune sweet young gentlemen? Cross the 
poor gipsy’s hand with silver to tell your fortune.” 

"No, thank you,” laughed Spencer. have had my 
fortune told by members of your tribe at least ten times 
to-day.” 

"But here’s half a crown for you if you’ll only go away 
and not bother,” added Tredegar, dropping the coin into 
the gipsy’s hand, 

" Blessings on your handsome face, kind gentleman ! 
Ah ! I could tell you of a fair lady who is thinking of 
you,” coaxed Gentilly. 

" And thinking what a long-legged, lantern -jawed, lank- 
haired fright the Yankee boy is, no doubt. All right ; you 
can tell me that another time ; but go now and don’t 
bother.” 

"Yes, Gentilly, you really must move on,” added the 
policeman. 

And the fortune teller, having gleaned all that she could 
from the company, did move on. - 

And now an agitation like the movement of the wind 
upon the waves of the sea or the leaves of the forest, 
swayed the vast multitude. 

“ What’s the matter now ? ” inquired the general. 

" The horses — they are coming,” answered Spencer. 

" Is it the great race ? Are they going to start ? ” 

" Not just yet. They are being brought out and walked 
around the course to be shown. Here they are ! ” exclaim- 
ed Tredegar. 


200 


THE BRIDE S FATE. 


All in the barouche stood up, adjusted their field glasses, 
and levelled them at the race course that encircled the 
field. 

About thirty of the very finest horses in the world, dec- 
orated, and ridden by small, light jockeys in parti-colored 
suits and fancy caps, came on in procession and trotted 
around the course. Some three years ago these horses, 
the cream of the cream ” of the horse nobility, had been 
bred and born to order, and from that time trained for this 
Derby — a most careful and costly preparation of three 
years for a trial that would he decided in half an hour. 
No wonder at the breathless interest they excited even 
among those who had no stake in the race. 

Involuntary exclamations of admiration and delight 
hurst from the ladies of our party. 

What beautiful creatures ! ” cried Anna. 

“ Pity they can’t all win,” added Drusilla. 

The train of horses trotted out of their range of vision, 
and disappeared from view on another section of the circle. 

Is there time to lunch before the great race ? ” inquired 
Dick, with a hungry glance at the hampers. 

“ No, sir ; they start in fifteen minutes,” answered 
Tredagar. 

Those fifteen minutes passed in silent waiting. Fortune- 
telling, small-trading, ballad-singing, eating and drinking 
— all were suspended until the trial upon which such 
immense stakes were laid should be over. It was a holiday, 
— a festival ; yet the hush that preceded the great event 
of the day, was like the awful pause before an execution. 

At length the spell was broken. The word went forth ; 

“ They’re starting ! ” 

Three hundred thousand people were on their feet in an 
instant. 

“ They’re coming ! ” 

Field glasses were raised and necks were stretched, and 
eyes were strained. 


THE GIPSIES. 


201 


Here they are ! Here they are ! 

Yes, here they are. The flying train* of meteors flashing 
past ! They are gone while we look ! Unaccustomed eyes 
cannot trace their flight, or distinguish one horse from 
another in the lightning-like passage. A moment more 
and the goal is won ! ” 

By whom ? 

It is not certainly known to the crowd just yet. They 
say : 

Lightfoot ! ” 

« Wing!’’ 

« Wonder ! 

Ho, none of these. The number flies up on the winning 
post : 

Humber Seven ! 

And a thousand voices cry out : 

Fairy Queen ! 

Yes, the favorite has won the race ; and Mr. Chisholm 
Cheke has made his fortune. Some few others have won 
much money, and many have lost, and some are ruined. 

Do not look towards the Grand Stand. The haggard 
faces of those ruined gamesters will haunt your dreams to 
your life’s end. 

It was wonderful how soon after the great act of this 
drama has been performed that the uncompromised crowd 
subsided into comparative calmness, and betook themselves 
again to their outside amusements — their small trading, 
fortune-telling, ballad-singing, et cetera, while waiting for 
the next race. 

General Lyon ordered up his hampers, and his party had 
luncheon. After they had finished, the fragments of their 
feast were distributed to the little beggars that thronged 
around their carriage-wheels. 

At four o’clock our party left the ground to return tc 
London. 


202 


THE bride’s fate. 


The evening drive hack to London was attended with all 
the incidents of the morning drive to Epsom — a hundred- 
fold increased — the crowd was thicker, the crush closer, 
the noise louder, the dust higher, the danger greater. 

Through all these, however, our party passed safely, and 
reached their apartments at the Morley House in time for 
an early tea. 


CHAPTER XYIL 

HOW THE PARTED MET. 

They seemed to those who saw them meet, 

The careless friends of every day, 

Her smile was still serene and sweet, 

His courtesy was free and gay ; 

Yet if by one the other’s name 
In some unguarded hour was heard, 

The heart they deemed so cold and tame 
Would flutter like a captured bird. — Moncton Milnhb. 

A FEW days after the Derh}", Anna and Drusilla sat in 
their private parlor at the hotel, waiting for the return of 
the general and Dick, who had gone out to keep an engage- 
ment with Francis Tredegar, hut had promised to be back 
in time to take the ladies to the Tower. 

Little Lenny was out with his nurse in the square. 

The conversation between the two young women turned 
upon the gipsies. 

It is wonderful, their seeming powers of projihecy or 
second sight,’^ said Anna. 

I wdsh I could know their skill to be second sight, 
since they prophesied to me such smooth things ; but, in 
truth, I think it was only insight,’^ replied Drusilla. 

‘ Insight ? ’ ” 

Nothing more.’’ 

But how did she know that Lenny was not my son, 
when I told her he was ? ” 


HOW THE -PARTED MET. 


203 


" By that same gift of insight, which I think they culti- 
vate to a great perfection. She read you, Anna — she saw 
through you. She knew by your manner that you were 
Dick’s wife ; but also that your bright face had never been 
clouded by a mother’s cares.” 

. And by the same power she divined that you were 
both wife and mother.” 

Yes ; she looked in my face, not in mj’- hand. They 
say that ‘ every face is a history, or a prophecy,’ — certainly 
every face seems to be both to these skillful physiognomists, 
the gipsies.” 

^‘It is their insight, then, that gives them such knowl- 
edge of human nature ?” 

“ Of course. They may be very ignorant of books, but 
they are very learned in men and women.” 

“ You must have studied the gipsy while she was study- 
ing you.” 

1 did, Anna. I watched her and others of her tribe 
while they were telling fortunes. I saw their insight gave 
them a foresight that the ignorant and superficial might 
mistake for supernatural powers of second sight and proph- 
ecy. I saw how they w^orked. Por instance, they know as 
a general fact that the wishes of the young run upon love ; 
those of the middle-aged upon money and worldly success; 
those of the old upon long life. Therefore, to the young, 
they always promise success in love ; to the mature, success 
in money matters ; to the aged, length of days. If they 
see a look of sorrow upon a young face, and no apparent 
cause, like a suit of deep mourning, for it, they will tell the 
dupe that he or she has been crossed in love, but that all 
wdll end well. If a look of care upon a middle-aged face, 
they will speak of monetar}" anxieties ; but they will also 
promise a fortunate issue to the difficulty. If of weariness 
upon an old face, they will still talk of long and happy 
years to come. Moreover, they think since opposites usually 


204 THE eride’s fate. 

attract each other, that it is safe to tell a blonde young 
lady that a dark young gentleman is thinking of her, and 
a brunette that her thoughts favor the attachment of a 
certain fair ^complected’ gentleman j and generally they 
hit the truth.” 

Yes, the rule most generally holds good. Witness Alick, 
Dick, you and me. Alick, a blonde, jilted me, another 
blonde, for you, a brunette. And I was very willing to be 
left free to marry my dark-haired Dick.” 

While Anna spoke the door opened and little Lenny 
entered, dragging in his nurse, and full of excitement. 

“Man! man! div Lenny dit!” he exclaimed, holding 
out a silver whistle to view, and then putting it to his lips 
and blowing a shrill blast. 

“ Oh ! oh ! oh ! goodness sake ! what lunatic gave the 
boy that? We shall be deafened!” exclaimed Anna, clap- 
ping her hands to her ears. 

Drusilla trembled with pleasure, for she instinctively 
knew the donor of the whistle ; but she smiled and lifted 
the boy in her arms, called Pina to follow, and went to her 
own room. 

“ Who gave it to him, Pina ? ” she asked, as soon as she 
had shut the door. 

“ His father, ma’am.” 

“ Tell me all about it.” 

“We were walking around the square, when all of a 
sudden who should come up but Mr. Alick — I mean Lord 
Killpeople, as they call him here.” 

“ Killcrichtoun, Pina.” 

“Well, Killchristians, ma’am; it’s all the same, only 
worse, because of course it is much more devilisher, beg- 
ging your pardon, ma’am, to kill Christians than it is to do 
to common people. Any ways, up he comes.” 

“ And What then ? Go on.” 

“ I didn’t go in, ma’am, though I was minded to. I did 


HOW THE PARTED MET, 


205 


as you directed me to do on such occasions. I stopped and 
made a curtsy, and handed little Lenny forward so as to 
place him in front of me facing of his father. And says 
he : 

‘ How do you do, Pina ? When did you arrive ? 
Whom did you come with ? ^ 

And then, without waiting for me to answer them ques- 
tions, he lifted up little Lenny in his arms, and says he : 

‘ Whose child is this ? ^ And says I, ^ He is General 
Lyon’s grand-nephew, sir, if you please ; ’ for I was sure 
all the time he knowed well enough it was his own. 

I didn’t ask you whose nephew he is j I asked you 
whose child he is.’ 

‘ The same child whose hair you cut, sir, please,’ I an- 
swered. 

Bosh, girl, you trifle with me ! Whose son is he ? ’ 

“ ^ Please, sir, I thought you knew. He is Mrs. Alexan- 
der Lyon’s own son, and Mr. and Mrs. Hammond’s and 
General Lyon’s god-son.’ 

^ Humph ! what’s his name ? ’ says he. 

‘ Master Leonard Lyon, sir,’ says I. 

^ Then as I am Lord Killcrichtoun, he is the Master of 
Killcrichtoun ! ’ 

Lords and Masters, sir ! you don’t say so ? ’ says I. 

And he frowned at me, black as thunder ; but little 
Lenny began to prattle to him, and he smiled and told mo 
to follow him. And he took us to a fine silversmith’s shop 
in the Strand, and bought him this whistle. And then he 
told me to take the boy home to his mother, as it was 
growing too warm to keep him out in the sun.” 

While Pina spoke, Prusilla’s tears fell fast; but she 
wiped them away and inquired : 

“You know, Pina, when we first came here, he was 
lodging in this house. But I have not seen him lately. 
Do you know whether he is still here ? ” 


206 


THE bride’s fate. 


ma’am, lie isn’t. I asked that very question of the 
waiter; and he told me ‘my lord’ had gone and taken 
apartments at ‘ Mivart’s.’ ” 

“We drove him away, I suppose,” muttered Drusilla to 
herself. 

“ Ma’am, I don’t think Mrs. Hammond or Mr. Dick, or 
the general knows of Mr. Alick being about. If they ask 
me who gave Master Lenny the whistle, am I to tell ? ” 

“ Certainly, Pina.” 

Drusilla was interrupted by a rap at the door. The voice 
of Anna without called : 

“ Grand-pa and Dick have returned, and the carriage is 
waiting, Drusa. Are you ready ? ” 

“ Quite ready, dear,” answered Drusilla, hastily tying on 
her bonnet, and then going out and joining Anna. 

They went to the drawing-room, Drusilla leading Lenny, 
who was shrilly blowing upon his whistle. 

Miserahile ! Young gentleman, that will not do. The 
other guests will lay complaints and the proprietor will give 
us warning,” exclaimed General Lyon. 

“Who gave Lenny that ? ” inquired Dick. 

“ Man, man in tware give Lenny dat,” said the imp, tak- 
ing the instrument of torture from his lips to reply, and 
then putting it back and puffing out his cheeks to blow an 
ear-piercing blast. 

“ Christopher Columbus ! that will never do ! ‘ Man in 

the square.’ What man gave the child such a nuisance as 
that? Was it Spencer, or any of our people ? ” demanded 
the general. 

“ It was his father,” calmly replied Drusilla. 

A sort of panic fell upon the party. The short spell of 
silence was broken by General Lyon. 

“ Humph ! humph ! humph ! humph ! so Ae’s turned up 
again, has he ? Where did he see the boy, my dear ? ” 

“ Uncle ” said Drusilla. “ he was lodging at this house, 


HOW THE PARTED MET. 


207 


when we first came. He left, I think, the same evening. 
But he knew that we also were lodging here ; for while we 
were driving out to leave our cards he came in and cut off a 
lock of little Lenny’s hair, and took it away with him.” 

When was this ? ” 

The first day we went driving, uncle ; the day before 
the Derby.” 

“ Humph ! humph ! humph ! And he left the same eve- 
ning ? and he has not been here since ?” 

“ I believe so, uncle.” 

“ Humph, humph ; it is clear that the sight of us sent 
him away. I don’t wonder at that. I only w'onder it did 
not blast him.” 

‘‘ Oh uncle, uncle ! ” pleaded Drusilla. 

“ My dear, your love may in time — or in eternity — re- 
deem the fellow, for ought I know. But it has not yet 
changed him into an angel of light or even into a decently- 
behaved devil, for a very devil with any decency left in him 
would have come round long before this. AVell, well, there, 
I see how much I distress you. I will say no more, my 
dear ; I will say no more.” 

Drusilla bowed in silence and turned away. Her heart 
w’as too full for utterance. Her voice was choked with 
emotion. She felt all the more deeply hurt by her uncle’s 
severe strictures upon her Alick, because she knew them to 
be the expression of his real and but too well-founded opin- 
ion. And neither could she resent them, coming from him. 
She owed him too vast a debt of gratitude. He had saved 
her life and her child’s life in their utmost extremity. 
And besides, he was Alick’s uncle, and the head of his 
family ; he had himself, in the person of his beloved grand- 
daughter, been deeply wronged by his nephew, and so had 
the right to sit in judgment on him. 

Thus because she heard this blame cast upon her still be- 
loved Alick, without the moral power of resenting it, she 
suffered in silence. 


208 


THE bride’s fate. 


Not long, however. The cloud soon lifted itself and 
colled away. Little Lenny came to her with his whistle. 

Put dit ’way. Lenny tired. Lenny daw ate,” he said 
pushing the toy up into her lap. 

^^Put it away, mamma. Lenny is tired, and Lenny’s 
laws ache, and no wonder,” said Anna, smiling. “We are 
all glad that Master Lenny’s jaws can ache with all his 
tooting, as well as our ears.” 

“’Top naddin’,” answered Lenny. 

“ ^ Stop nagging ? ’ Where did he pick up that phrase, 
eh, Master Lenny ? You don’t hear it from any of us.” 

“ Come, my dears, if we are to see the Tower before din- 
ner, we had better start at once. Is Lenny to go with us, 
Drusa ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, if you please.” 

“ You know that I always like to have the little fellow.” 

“ But I shall stipulate that the whistle he left behind. 
We shall find instruments of torture enough in the Tower; 
though I don’t believe the utmost ingenuity of cruelty ever 
thought of a child’s whistle wherewith to torment a victim. 
That w^as left for Mr. Alick.” 

“ Come, come, Anna, I will not have another word said 
against Alick, since it grieves our darling here. But I 
would like to know what keeps him hanging about here so 
long. He has been here now nearly two years.” 

“ Uncle,” said Urusilla, who now thought that she might 
as well tell all her news at once — news which indeed she 
had intended to tell, when the subject of Alick’s presence 
w’as first introduced, but which was then arrested on her lips 
by the indignant aninaadversions of General Lyon — “ Uncle, 
do you remember reading last winter in the London Times 
of a young American gentleman wLo claimed, through his 
mother, the Barony of Killcrichtoun ? ” 

“ I — think I do remember some such asinine proceeding 
on the part of a young countryman of ours.” 


HOW THE PARTED MET. 209 

He was your nephew, uncle, and he has made good the 
claim. He is now Lord Killcrichtoun. That is the reason 
why he stays in England, I suppose.” 

“ Whe — ew ! ” whistled the old gentleman^ slowly, adding 
soto voce, so as not to be heard hy Drusilla ; 

I knew he was a scamp ; but never suspected him of 
being an ass.” 

But Dick had handed Drusilla, Lenny and Anna into the 
carriage, and was waiting to perform the same service for 
his uncle, who now entered and took his seat. The drive 
from Charing Cross to the Tower was comparatively short, 
but very interesting, taking our travellers through the most 
ancient and historical portions of Old London. 

Drawing near the grim, old fortress of the kings- of Eng- 
land, the}’- saw rising above the thickly-crowded buildings 
of the city and the turbid waters of the Thames, the cen- 
tral keep, or citadel, known as the White Tower, and sur- 
rounded by its double line of fortified walls and by its dry 
moat. 

Our party alighted from their carriage at the great gate, 
flanked by embattled turrets at the south-western angle of 
the walls. 

Having paid their sixpence each as entrance fee, they 
passed over the stone bridge across the moat and found 
themselves within the outer ward, between the two lines of 
wall. 

Here, overpowered by the spirit of the past, they looked 
around them, feeling something of the awe that children 
feel in a church-yard in the dusk of evening. The spirit of 
the past was indeed before them — and not only in the 
hoary walls of the middle ages, but in the living creatures 
of the da}’- ; for the w’arders of the Tower, the Extraordi- 
nary Yeoman of the Eoyal Guard, commonly called the 
Beef Eaters,” were dressed in the costume of the time of 
Henry the Eighth. 

13 


210 


THE bride’s fate. 


One of these stepped up to General Lyon, and saluting 
respectfully, tendered his service as guide. 

And there are the buildings and there the costumes, 
this the ground and that the sky that met the eyes of beau- 
tiful Anne Boleyn as she first came to this place a bride 
and a queen, and last as a victim and a convict,” murmured 
Drusilla, dreamily and half unconsciously. 

Queen Anne entered by that postern at the water side, 
when she came here in state before her coronation ; but the 
last time she w^as here she was brought in by the Traitor’s 
Gate, a few days before her execution,” said the literal 
warder, speaking just as if he had been an eye witness to 
both proceedings. 

Drusilla stared at him, and thought he really might have 
been an actor in those long past tragedies ; in his costume 
of that day he looked like a ghost of the past. 

“'Where was Lady Jane Grey brought in when she was 
brought here a prisoner ? ” 

“ Through the Traitor’s’ Gate.” 

Ah, it seems that all wLo offended majesty in those 
palmy days, however innocent they might have been, were 
traitors. Where is that Traitors’ Gate ? ” 

Some distance down the southern side, my lady. We 
will come around to it presently, when I will show it to 
you.” 

They were now making the circuit of the Outer Ward, 
passing up the west side. 

There, sir, are the old buildings once appropriated to 
the Mint, which is now removed to a handsome edifice on 
Tower Hill, which I will show you,” said the guide, turn- 
ing to General Lj^on. 

And the general and Dick gave him their attention. 

V But Anna and Drusilla were not interested in the mint, 
ai\d remembered Tower Hill only as the scene of the exe- 
cution of Lord Guilford Dudley. 


HOW THE PAATED MET. 


211 


Passing on, the guide pointed out many objects of inter- 
est j the two strong bastions — the Legge Mount and the 
Brass Mount — defending the north-western and north- 
eastern angles of the outer wall ; the Iron Gate and Tower 
at the south-eastern angle ; the site of the ancient Well 
Tower, and the remains of the Cradle Tower. Thus they 
came at last to St. Thomas’s Tower, which guards the 
Traitors’ Gate. 

There it is, ladies and gentlemen,” said the guide. 

Oh, how many fair and stately heads have passed under 
that awful arch ! ” murmured Anna. 

As for Drusilla, the time for talking of these things was 
passed with her. She was too deeply impressed for speech. 

General Lyon and Mr. Hammond instinctively uncovered 
their heads in the presence of this dread monument of 
human suffering. 

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, here passed to their deaths 
the beautiful Queen Anne Bolcyn, the fair Queen Katha- 
rine Howard, the lovely Lady Jane Grey, the courtly Nor- 
folk, the accomplished Burleigh, the venerable Thomas 
More ” 

^^And hundreds and hundreds more — the victims of 
tyranny and bigotry,” said General Lyon, cutting short the 
list. 

That’s so, sir,” admitted the guide. Ah, if you had 
lived in those days ! ” 

“ Bid ^ou ? ” inquired Anna, turning upon him. 

The guide smiled. 

“I almost think I did, ma’am, sometimes — what with 
living here, and what with going over the history so many 
times a day. This way, ladies and gentlemen.” 

And he led the way from the Traitors’ Gate straight 
across the ward to an imposing gateway defended by the 
Bloody Tower, leading through the embattled wall that 
encloses the inner ward. 


212 


THE bride’s fate. 


This tower/’ said the guide, “ is the scene of the mur- 
der of the two young princes, sons of Edward the Fourth, 
assassinated by order of their uncle, Eichard the Third.” 

Can we enter and examine it ? ” 

The interior is not shown. It is occupied by some of 
the officers of the guard as private lodgings.” 

“ Oh, think of such an ancient and tragical place being 
occupied as a dwelling, where people eat, drink, sleep and 
live ! I wonder what my spiritual condition would he if I 
lived in such a place ? ” said Anna, gazing on the gray 
walls as she passed them. 

“ This inner wall is fortified by twelve strong minor 
towers, all of them formerly used as prison-lodgings. I 
I will show the most interesting of them as we go on,’^ 
said the guide. “ But first I will take you to the White 
Tower,” he added, pointing to the imposing citadel that 
occupied the centre. 

“ I should take that to be the Tower — the Tower, par 
excellence. Bray, is that the place where the old monarchs 
of England used to hold their court before Elizabeth’s 
time ? ” inquired Anna. 

No, ma’am. The old Palace of the Tower was pulled 
down in the reign of James II. It occupied the south-east 
angle of the inner ward — there, you see, on the site of the 
present Ordnance office.” 

What a pity a building so replete with interesting asso- 
ciations should have been destroyed,” 'said Anna. 

“There, ladies and gentlemen, that modern building 
which you see against the south wall of the White Tower, 
is the Horse Armory, where the equestrian statues of our 
kings, in their ancient armors, are arranged in state ! ” 

“ Oh, yes, we have tickets for the Horse Armory — we 
will see that at once, if you please ! ” said General Lyon. 

They crossed towards the White Tower and the Horse 
Armory. 


HOW THE PARTED MET. 


213 


You now Bee before you, sir, the oldest and the newest 
of these structures joined together. The White Tower is 
the most ancient as well as the most imposing of the build- 
ings,’’ said the guide. 

So I should judge from its great size and central posi- 
tion,” remarked the general. 

“ It was erected, sir, in 1080 by William the Conqueror, 
as a stronghold against enemies, the rebellious Saxons, whc 
opposed his reign. It is a magnificent specimen of Nor- 
man architecture. The walls are of immense thickness and 
strength. I will take you through it presently j but here 
we are at the Horse Armory, which is the most modern of 
all the tower buildings, quite modern indeed, a work of to- 
day, comparatively speaking, having been built in 1826. 
Your tickets, sir, if you please.” 

Dick, who held the tickets, passed them over to the war- 
der, who at once led his party to an ante-room of the 
Armory, where they were to wait for a new guide to take 
them through. 

When you return here, sir,” said the guide, “I shall 
be happy to show you through the White Tower, and all 
the other towers of the inner ward.” 

“ Thanks,” said the general. 

And the man touched his hat and fell back. 

There were several other groups of sight-seers waiting in 
the ante-room for guides to conduct them. 

And presently these guides appeared, bringing out par- 
ties they had been attending. 

One of them beckoning our friends to follow him, led 
them straightways into a vast hall, some hundred feet in 
length by thirty in breadth, dimly lighted on each side by 
stained glass windows and decorated on the walls and ceil- 
ing with the most curious and valuable military trophies 
and emblems. 

In glass cases under these windows were exhibited such 


214 


THE bride’s fate. 


wonders of warlike workmanship as are nowhere else gath- 
ered together — helmets, gauntlets, shields, swords, spears, 
lances and other specimens of armor, won from many a 
battle-field, stormed fortress, or sacked city, of all ages of 
history and all countries of the world. And each curious 
specimen had its equally curious history or legend. 

Yet our party scarcely glanced at any of these or heard 
a word of the explanation uttered by their guide. 

For down the centre of the vast hall, drawn up as in 
line of battle, was a grim array of equestrian figures, 
clothed in complete steel, being a line of the old kings of 
England from the time of Edward the First to the time of 
James the Second, each man and horse in the armor of his 
day. 

“ This,” said the guide, pausing before the first figure, 
that stood upon an elevated platform at the head of the 
line, “ is Edward the First, in the same armor he is said to 
have worn on his invasion of Scotland. You perceive he is 
represented as in the act of drawing his sword. Observe, 
if you please, sir, this beautiful specimen of chain armor.” 

Thus the guide went on with his explanation of these 
equestrian effigies of the old kings, calling the attention of 
his hearers to the most remarkable features of the exhibi- 
tion and gaining their interest. 

Each member of this party was deeply absorbed in the 
subject, but none so deeply as was Drusilla. Her suscepti- 
ble nature received all the influence, imbibed all the inspir- 
ation of the scene. Her vivid imagination carried her cen- 
turies back to the storied age in which all these dead and 
gone heroes lived and acted. 

“ Henry the Sixth,” said the guide, pausing before the 
effigy of that unhappy king. Notice, if you please, sir, 
this splendid specimen of scale-armor, sometimes called 
flexible armor.” 

Drusilla gazed on, drinking in every word that fell from 


HOW THE PARTED MET. 


215 


this oracle’s lips, and deep in the romance of mediaeval his- 
tory when, suddenly looking up, she uttered a half-sup- 
pressed cry. 

Gone were the middle ages wdth their tales of chivalry 
and minstrelsy ! Vanished king and page, and knight and 
squire ! With her was only the present — the intensely 
real present ! For there, not ten feet from her, stood her 
husband, Alexander Lyon, Lord Killchrichtoun ! His 
back was turned towards her. He stood over one of the 
glass cases before the stained-glass wundow, examining a 
curious Etruscan helmet. 

At her half-uttered cry he turned around, and their 
eyes met — met for the first time since that cruel parting on 
the wedding-night ! 

But he recognized her with a cold, uncompromising stare. 
And then, seeing that the regards of her whole party were 
drawn upon him, he seemed resolved to face the situation. 
Walking deliberately towards them, he raised his hat 
slowly, bowed deeply, passed them, and went down to the 
opposite end of the armory. 

Humph, humph, humph, humph ! ” muttered the gen- 
eral to himself, “ that is what I call cool impudence !” 

Drusilla could not speak or move. She stood transfixed 
and motionless as any one of those grim effigies before 
them. She stood thus until General Lyon kindly broke 
the spell that bound her, by lightly laying his hand upon 
her shoulder and whispering: 

My dear, recollect yourself! ” 

She started, and recovered her self-possession at once, 
and in time to see little Lenny, whom Dick led by the 
hand, pulling at his protector, and pointing down the hall, 
and shouting : 

“ Man, man ! div Lenny that hoo ! ” putting up his lips 
and describing in pantomime the whistle whose name he 
had forgotten. 


216 THE bride’s fate. 

Little Lenny knew him again ! murmured Drusilla to 
herself. 

All this did not quite escape the notice of the guide. 
He saw what passed, hut apparently without understanding 
it ; for, turning to General Lyon, he said : 

“ Lord Killchrichtoun, sir ! His face is as well known 
here as an}^ of these images. He is in almost every day.” 

Then, reverting to his own especial business, and point- 
ing out another efSgy, he said : 

Henry the Eighth, ladies and gentlemen! Pray 
observe this magnificent suit of armor, damasquined or 
inlaid with pure gold. It is said to be the same he wore 
on that famous occasion of his meeting with Francis I. on 
the field of the Cloth of Gold.” 

Oh, the horrid monster ! I would rather look upon 
Lucifer’s self than Henry the Eighth’s effigy ! Let us pass 
on 1 ” said Anna, impatiently. 

And they passed on, pausing now and. then to gaze upon 
the armed and mounted effigy of some knight or king, 
famous or, perhaps, infamous in history or tradition, until 
they reached the last one in the line — James II — after 
whose day fire-arms came in and armor went out. 

And so they passed from the Horse Armory to Queen 
Elizabeth’s Armory, occupying an apartment in the lower 
floor of the White Tower. 

At the upper end was an equestrian effigy of the Loyal 
Fury of Tudor, who cut off her lovers’ heads as her father 
before her had cut off his wives’. She was dressed in the 
preposterous costume of her court, mounted on a carved 
charger, and attended by her page. She was most appro- 
priately surrounded by curious chains and manacles, ingen- 
ious instruments of torture, and judicial implements of 
death. 

Conspicuous among these was the thumb-screw, the rack, 
the headsman’s axe, and the heading block upon which the 
old Lord Lovat and his companions had been decapitated. 


HOW THE PARTED MET. 


217 


Here, on tlie north side, was also a small, heavy door, 
leading into a deep and narrow dungeon cut in the thick- 
ness of the wall, and having neither air nor light except 
that which entered by the door way. 

‘^In this dismal hole the accomplished Sir Walter Kal- 
eigh passed the long years of his imprisonment, and here 
he wrote his History of the World.’’ 

He had leisure enough for such a stupendous work ; 
but I don’t see .where he got space or light from, or how he 
could possibly have lived in such a dark, damp den,” said 
Dick. 

“ Oh, you see, sir, it is to be supposed that he was only 
locked in there at night, and had the freedom of the hall 
during the da3\” 

They next ascended the stairs to the second floor, and 
visited the ancient Council Chamber, where the old Kings 
held their Court at the Tower. This was the place of 
Anne Boleyn’s trial. Then on the same floor was St. 
John’s Chapel, the most perfect specimen of Korman archi- 
tecture in the country’-. 

All these things Drusilla saw as in a dream. She was 
thinking only of her husband and the cold stare with 
which he had met her eyes. 

The guide led them from the White Tower to the green 
before the prison chapel — St. Peter’s. 

“ Stop here a moment, if you please, ladies and gentle- 
men,” he said. 

They all paused, thinking from that point he was going 
to indicate some view or effect. But it was not so. 

‘‘Do you know where you stand, ladies? No? Well, 
you* stand upon the exact spot where the head of Anne 
Boleyn fell under the executioner’s stroke.” 

Anna impulsively sprang away. Dick and the general 
looked interested. But Drusilla heard him with something 
like indifference. Queen Anne’s sufferings was so long 


218 


THE bride’s fate 


past and now so vague ; Drusilla’s own were so preset t and 
so real. She was scarcely conscious of the remainder ot 
her tour through the Tower buildings. 

The guide led the party into St. Peter’s chapel; told 
them it had been built in the reign of Edward I., 1282 ; 
and showed them the flag stones in front of the altar 
beneath which repose the remains of the sainted Lady 
Jane Grey, the venerable Thomas Cromwell, the good and 
great Somerset, the accomplished Surrey, the brilliant 
Essex, and many other less exalted but no less honorable 
martyrs to truth and patriotism, victims to bigotry and 
tyranny. 

Leaving St. Peter’s Chapel, our friends made the circuit 
of the twelve minor towers of the inner ward. These in 
the good old times ” were all used as prisons, lodgings for 
those who had had the misfortune to become obnoxious to 
despotism or fanaticism. 

Among these the richest in historic associations is the 
Beauchamp Tower, popularly called the Beechum Tower, 
whose walls are cut all over with the autographs or other 
inscriptions of the illustrious dead, who in its gloomy dun- 
geons pined away the last days of their violently ended 
lives. 

The Brick Tower was pointed out as having been the 
prison of Lady ^ ane Gray ; the Devereux Tower as that of 
the Earl of Essex ; the Bell Tower as once the prison of 
the Princess Elizabeth when she was confined by the 
jealousy of her sister. Queen Mary ; the Bowyer Tower as 
the place in which the Duke of Clarence was drowned in 
the butt of malmsey wine. 

But that which filled the beholders with a deeper gl«om 
than all the others was the Flint Tower, called, for the 
superlative horror of its dungeons the Little Hell. 

That was the last abyss of the inferno that our sight 
seers looked into. The w'omen, at least, could bear no 
more. 


WAITING AND HOPING. 


219 


Come,” said Anna, shuddering. It is not evening, so 
we have not ‘ supped,’ but we have dined ‘ full of horrors.’ 
Let us leave the Tower with its gloomy dungeons and 
ghastly memories, and the Yeomen of the Guard in their 
devil’s mourning of black and red, for Bloody Henry 
Tudor, I suppose ; let us get out into the pure open air, 
and back to the wholesome nineteenth century.” 

General Lyon and Dick liberally remunerated the civil 
and attentive warders, and the whole party passed out of 
the Tower walls, entered their carriage, and returned to 
their hotel, where awaited them — a very great surprise. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

WAITING AND HOPING. 

Silence, silence, still, unstirred— 

Long, unbroken, unexplained; 

Not one word, one little word 
Even to show him touched or pained. 

Silence, silence, all unbroken — 

Not a sound, a word, or token — O wbn Mebedith. 

Still overshadowed with the gloom of their visit to the 
Tower, our party entered their private parlor at their hotel. 

They found their favorite sofa occupied by a group of 
visitors. 

But before General Lyon had time to recognize or wel- 
come them, a hearty hand was clapped upon his shoulder, 
and a cheery voice shouted in his ear : 

“So here you are at last! We have been waiting for 
you these two hours.” 

“ Colonel Seymour ! ” exclaimed General Lyon, in un- 
feigned surprise and delight. 

“ Yes, and Mrs. Seymour and Miss Seymour.” 

Old friends, I am glad to see you.” 


220 


THE BRIDE S FATE. 


“ So am I to see you.” 

And there was a general and hearty shaking of hands. 

Now he seated again all of you. When did you 
arrive ? ” inquired the general. 

“ Bless you ! just now, I may say. Landed at Liverpool 
last night, slept at the Adelphi, took the train this morning 
and reached London this noon.” 

And where are you stopping ? ” 

At Mivarts’ for the present. And before we got settled 
there, I took a Hansom cab and drove off to the Ameticau 
Embassy to inquire where you hung out. I saw a young 
fellow of the name of Troubador ” 

Tredegar,” amended Dick. 

“Ah yes, thank you — so it was Tredegar. Well, I saw 
a young fellow of the name of Tredegar, who told me where 
to find you ; and so I drove back to Mivart’s as fast as ever 
I could — and how those Hansom cabs can fly over the 
ground ! — and I changed my Hansom for- a four wheeler, 
and just giving Nan time to put on her finery, I took her 
and her mother in and drove here ! ” exclaimed the visitor, 
eagerly talking himself out of breath, and briskly wiping 
his face with his pocket handkerchief. 

“ And we are all so charmed to see you. We never had 
a more complete surprise, or a more delightful one,” said 
Anna. 

And all her party cordially assented to her words. 

“ I hope you did not have to wait for us long,” said Dick^ 
anxiously. 

■ “ Two mortal hours, I tell you, at the risk of being 
turned out every minute, too.” 

“ How was that? ” quickly inquired the general. 

“ Why, you see, first of all, that fellow in the white 
neckcloth and napkin told me somewhat shortly thai 
neither General Lj^on nor any of his party were at home. 

“ ‘ I know that, because they are here,’ I answered. 


WAITING AND HOPING. 


221 


“ * But they are not in, sir,’ he replied. 

‘ Then we will wait till they are,’ I rejoined. 

‘ They’ll not be here till five o’clock,’ he added. 

‘ All right. We will sit down and make oursehes com- 
fortable until that hour,’ I remarked. 

“ ^ That’s the general’s dinner hour,’ growled the fellow. 

* Which is extremely lucky, as we can dine with him,’ 
concluded I. 

The fellow looked as if he suspected me of being the 
confidence man, and meditated calling in the police. How- 
ever he contented himself with beckoning to an under 
waiter, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in my direction, 
and muttering something very like an order to the other 
one not to lose sight of me. And so he or the other fellow 
kept an eye on me all the while.” 

The insolent scoundrel ! ” exclaimed General Lyon, 
indignantly. 

“Not at all. He was an honest fellow — >had your inter- 
est at heart and looked after it. How did he know but I 
might have walked oiT with the piano?” answered the 
visitor, patting his host on the shoulder to soothe down his 
anger, and adding, “ I know I, for one, looked like a suspi- 
cious party, in my weather-beaten sea-suit. And just see 
what an old fashioned bonnet my wife wears ; and as for 
Nanny, I have a painful impression that she is over- 
dressed,” he sighed, glancing from the rich, light-blue 
taffeta gown, and white silk mantle and bonnet of Miss 
Seymour’s costume to the plain grays that formed the street 
dress of the other ladies. 

“ Miss Nanny is charming in any style,” said the gen- 
eral, gallantly, bowing to the mortified girl. 

“ However,” continued Colonel Seymour, “ I was anxious 
to see you all, so I waited. I suppose if we had been fash- 
ionable folks we should have left our cards and gone away ; 
but being plain people, we preferred to wait for your return. 


222 


THE bride’s fate. 


So here we are, and here you are! We expected to see 
you, hut 3’ou didn’t expect to see us, did you, now ? ” 

^^No ; but we are not the less overjoyed on that account. 
And of course you must stay and dine with us.” 

Of course. I told the waiter so,” laughed the colonel. 

“ Now, dear Mrs. Seymour and darling Nanny, you 
must both come up with Drusilla and myself to our rooms 
to take off jmur bonnets,” said Anna, rising and conduct- 
ing her visitors from the room. 

At a sign from the general, Dick went down stairs to 
order some necessary additions to their dinner, in honor of 
their guests. 

“ Now, old friend, tell me what put it into your head to 
cross the ocean and give me this great pleasure ? ” inquired 
General Lyon, when he found himself alone with his neigh- 
bor. 

^‘Example,” answered Colonel Seymour; — nothing but 
example. You and your family left the neighborhood to go 
to Europe. And I and mine were very lonesome, I can 
tell you, after j^ou were all gone. So one day I up and 
said to my wife : 

“ ‘ Polly, if w'e are ever to see the Old World, we had as 
well see it now as at another time. We are not growing 
younger, Polly. Indeed I sometimes fancy we are growing 
older.’ 

“ ‘ Why, la, Benny,’ she said, ‘ can’t you live and die 
like your fathers without leaving jmur own country?’ 

^‘So I answered right up and down : 

‘ No, Polly, I can not. And as w^e must go to Europe 
some time, to show it to our girl, if for no other reason, we 
can’t choose a better time than this wdien our old neigh- 
bors are over there. We’ll go and join them and have a 
good time.’ 

“ Well, upon the whole, Polly didn’t dislike the idea of 
the trip ; and as for Nanny, she was all for it. So we up 
and came.” 


WAITING AND HOPING. 223 

You must have decided and acted with great prompti- 
tude to be over here so soon after us.” 

Didn’t we, though ? We set the house in order the 
next day, which was Tuesday; packed up Wednesday, 
went to New York Thursday, and sailed from Liverpool on 
Saturday.” 

“ What ! and had not previously engaged berths in your 
steamer ? ” 

‘‘ No ; didn’t ki.ow that was necessary until I went into 
the agent’s office. And then it was by a stroke of luck we 
got the rooms. A family who were going out by that 
steamer that day were unavoidably delayed, and had to 
give up their berths. And I engaged them.” 

Well, certainly, you were more lucky than you knew.” 

Yes, ‘ a fool for luck,’ it is said.” 

‘^Well, now, neighbor, shall w’e follow the example of 
the ladies and go to my dressing-room to refresh our 
toilets ? As for mj^self, I have been poking into the vaults 
and dungeons of the Tower, and I feel as if I were covered 
with the dust of ages ! ” 

“Yes, and I am just as unbearable with railway smoke 
and cinders.” 

“ Come, then,” said the general, rising and conducting 
his visitor to his own apartment. 

Half an hour afterwards, all the friends assembled in the 
parlor, where the table was laid for dinner. 

At half-past five it was served. It consisted of a boiled 
turbot, with shrimp sauce; green-turtle soup; roasted 
young ducks and green peas ; pigeon-pasty ; cauliflowers, 
asparagus, sea-kail and, in short, the choice vegetables of 
the month ; and, for dessert, delicate whipped creams, 
jellies, and ices, and candied fruits, and nuts; and port, 
and sherry, and champagne, and moselle wines. 

“ The “ fellow in the neckcloth and napkin,” as the col- 
onel described the waiter, seeing how well these visitors 


224 


THE bride’s fate. 


were received by General Lyon and family, tried to make 
up for his mistakes of the morning by the most obsequious 
attentions, all of which the good-natured Seymours received 
in excellent part. 

Old Sej’mour "was blessed with a keen appetite and 
a strong digestion. He had always enjoyed his homely 
farm dinners of boiled beef, or bacon and greens, washed 
down with native whiskey-toddy, and now he much more 
keenly enjoyed the rare delicacies set before him. 

After coffee was served they arose from the table, and 
the service w^as removed. 

I suppose, my dear, there is no such thing as a treat in 
the form of your sweet music to be hoped for this eve- 
ning ? ” sighed the colonel, as he took his seat in a resting 
chair. 

Why not. Colonel Seymour ? ” smiled Drusilla. 

Oh, to be sure, I see a piano in the room ; but of course 
it is a hotel piano, which you would no more care to touch 
than I would to hear I ” 

Suppose 3^ou let me try this ^ hotel piano.’ Let us not 
yield to a prejudice, but give the abused thing a fair trial,” 
said Drusilla, smiling as she sat down to one of the finest 
instruments of the most celebrated manufacturer in Lon- 
don. 

She executed in her best style some of Colonel Seymour’s 
favorite pieces. And the old colonel, as usual, listened, 
entranced. 

“ Why, that is one of the best toned pianos I ever heard 
in my life — quite as good as your own fine instrument at 
home!” exclaimed the old man in surprise. “But what 
amazes me is that it should be in such good tone. I never 
could abide either school pianos or hotel pianos in my life 
before.” 

“ This is neither,” answered Drusilla, laughing. “We 

ed this from a celebrated music-bazaar.” 


WAITING AND HOPING. 


225 


Ah, that accounts for it ! ” said the colonel. Now, 
my dear, begin again ! Consider, I haven’t heard the 
sound of your sweet voice in song for a month before to- 
night ! ” 

And that is just the reason why he crossed the ocean, 
Drusilla, my dear, and nothing else in life!^’ said Mrs. 
Seymour. ^^He may talk about showing Nanny the old 
world and improving her mind and all that, but it’s no such 
thing ! It was the love of your music that lured him all 
the w^ay from America, like the lute of What’s-his-name 
did the spirits out of What-do-you-call it ! ” 

Drusilla smiled on the old lady and recommenced her 
pleasant task, and played and sang for the old gentleman 
during the remainder of the evening. 

At eleven o’clock the visitors arose to take their leave, 
but of course did not do it immediately, — they stood and 
talked for half an hour longer. And, in that standing con- 
ference, it was arranged that General Lyon should see 
about getting suitable apartments at the Morley House for 
the Seymours ; and, if none should now be vacant, that 
he should bespeak in advance the first that should be dis- 
engaged. 

It was. farther agreed that the two parties of friends 
should join company in all sight-seeing excursions, and 
that they should always lunch together. 

And here a friendly quarrel, each old gentleman insisting 
upon being the permanent host of the lunch table. Finally 
the dispute ended in an amicable arrangement that General 
Lyon and Colonel Seymour should each be the host on 
alternate days. 

Then indeed the Seymours took leave and departed. 

And the Lyons went to rest. 

Drusilla entered her own bed-chamber. Little Lenny 
was'asleep in bis crib. Pina was nodding in her seat. 

Drusilla had neither the will nor the power to sleep. 

14 


226 THE bkide’s fate. 

S’he threw herself in her resting-chair and gave her mind 
np to thought. She was glad to he alone. The day had 
been a very harassing one — at once exciting and depressing 
in its events and experiences. Yet all that had occurred 
to her sank into utter insignificance compared with the 
single incident of one instant — the cold stare with which 
her husband had met her eyes. More than all his double- 
dealing with her ; more than his long neglect of her at Ce- 
darwood ; more than his cruel repudiation of her on her 
wedding night; more than his two years of scornful aband- 
onment — did this cold, hard, strange stare chill her love 
and darken her faith and depress her hopes. Drusilla^s sad 
reverie was interrupted by a gentle rap at her door. It 
had been probably repeated more than once before it broke 
into her abstraction. Now thinking it was the chamber- 
maid coming on some errand connected with fresh water or 
clean towels, she was about to bid the rapper come in ; but 
quickly reflecting that the hour w^as too late to expect a 
visit from the damsel in question, and feeling startled at 
the thought of an unknown visitor at midnight, she 
cautiously inquired : 

Who IS there ? 

“ It is I, Drusa, dear. I know you are still up, for I see 
the light shining through your key-hole, and you never 
sleep with a light burning,” said the voice of Mrs. Ham- 
mond. 

Come in, dear Anna,” said Drusilla, rising and opening 
the door. 

Now, if you really prefer to be alone, tell me so, my 
dear, and I will not take it amiss, but leave you at once,” 
said Anna, hesitating, before she took the easy chair offered 
her by Drusilla. 

“ No ; how could you think so ? How could you think 1 
could prefer my own company to yours ? I know you came 
to cheer me up, and I feel how kind you are. Sit down, 
dear Anna.” 


WAITING AND HOPING. 


22T 


Well, Drusa, you see we have not had one moment to 
ourselves to-day ; and we may not have to-morrow. I 
knew — I felt instinctively that you would he too much ex- 
cited to sleep to-night, so I came to you, my dear — partly, 
as you say, to cheer you up, but partly, also, to talk of 
something that happened to-day.’^ 

« Yes — thank you, dear Anna.” 

“ You have confidence enough in me, I hope, Drusilla, to 
feel that you and I can talk upon some ticklish subjects 
without oifence, since I speak only in your interest.” 

“Yes, Anna.” 

“ Well, then, we met Alick in the Tower. That seems 
certain. But did I hear and see right, and did the guide 
point out our Alick and call him Lord Kilcrackam ? ” 

“ Lord Killcrichtoun. Yes, Anna.” 

“ And furthermore, did I dream it, or did I hear some- 
thing said between you and grand-pa — something that did 
not reach my ears quite distinctly, because I was not very 
near you at the time, and you spoke quite low, as you 
always do — something, in short, to the effect that our Alick 
is the same young American gentleman who claimed a 
certain Scotch barony in right of his mother?” 

“ Yes, it was Alick who claimed, and made good his 
claim to the barony of Killchrichtoun. I should have 
thought Dick, as much as he is about town, would have 
found it out before this.” 

“Oh dear, no, he has not. It would have been the 
merest chance if he had, in a town where there is so much 
more — so very much more — to be talked about than a young 
man’s succession to a petty lordship. By the way, how did 
you know it, Drusilla ? ” 

“ The first day of our being here I was standing at the 
front window and saw him leave the house and walk across 
the square. I was very much startled, and called the 
waiter, and, pointing to Alick, inquired if that gentleman 


228 


THE bride’s fate 


were stopping here. The man told me that he was here 
for the present, hut would leave in the evening, and that 
he was Lord Killcrichtoun. And then there flashed upon 
me all at once the idea that he was the very same young 
American gentleman who had claimed the title.’^ 

And you never told us about it,” said Anna, in sur- 
prise. 

“I — shrank from the subject; and, besides, I did not 
think you would care to hear. You remember little Lenny’s 
losing a lock of hair ? ” 

Certainly ; and it was cut off by his father, I suppose.” 

Yes, in the absence of Pina, and while Lenny was in 
the temporary charge of the chambermaid.” 

And 3 ^ou never mentioned it to us.” 

“ Dear Anna, you know I never bring up Alick’s name 
unnecessarily.” 

“ Well, but I must tell Dick all about it if you have no 
objection.” 

“None in the world. I wish him to know it.” 

“ But I am astonished at Alexander, merging the honest 
manliness of an American citizen in the empty title of a 
Scotch barony ! However it is all of a piece with his late 
mad proceedings. Now, there, I see from your reproving 
countenance that I must utter no more blasphemies against 
your idol ; but now if the divine Alexander is Lord Kill- 
crichtoun, what are you, my dear ? ” 

Drusilla looked up with a startled expression, then re- 
flected a few moments, and finally answered : 

“ I am his wife ; bey’-ond that I have never thought.” 

“ You are Lady Killcrichtoun ; and now here is the diffi- 
culty : Your cards bear the name Mrs. Alexander Lyon. 
Everywhere my grandfather has introduced you as such ; 
all the invitations sent you are addressed to you by that 
name ; and m5re, our lady ambassadress expects to presen* 
you at her Majesty’s next drawing-room as Mrs. Alexander 
Lyon. Now what is to be done about that ? 


WAITING* AND HOPING. 


229 


Diasilla did not answer, "but she reflected — so long that 
Anna broke in upon her meditation wdtli the question ; 

“ You have a right to share your husband’s title — a right 
of which he cannot deprive you, for it is legally your own. 
Shall wo not then introduce you as Lady Killcrichtoun ? 

“ 'No,” answered Drusilla, gravely. “ The name I now 
hear' is also legally my own, having been given me by my 
husband in our marriage. I wdll retain it. I will never 
attempt to share his new rank until he himself shall give 
me leave to do so. If, without his sanction, I were to take 
my part in his title, I should seem to be pursuing him, 
which I will never consent to do, dear Anna.” 

But then, my dear, do you consider that if you refuse 
to do this, you will enter society in some degree under false 
colors.” 

“Dear Anna, there is no necessity for my entering soci- 
ety at all. I would rather live in seclusion as Drusilla 
Lj'on than go into the world as Lady Killcrichtoun, and of 
course I can live so.” 

“ And if you do live so, you will never see Alick ; but if 
3’^ou go out, 3’ou will meet him every day ; for of course he is 
the ga^^est man about town here, as he used to be at home. 
And 3"OU ma3^ depend he wdll be received everywhere ; for 
in this country a ‘title is a title, and though the baron 3’- of 
Killcrichtoun ma3" not be worth five hundred a year, Alick 
lias an enormous outside fortune, wdiich fact cannot be hid 
under a bushel. And going about as he does, alone, he will 
be thought a single man, and, under all the supposed cir- 
cumstances, a very eligible match. Now, Drusa, if I w'ere 
you, I would put a stop to all that by going constantly into 
society, and going too as Lady Killcrichtoun.” 

“ No,” repeated Diusilla, “ I will never share his title 
until he authorizes me to do so. And as to going out under 
my present name, I will be guided by General Lyon. As 
he is responsible for me, he must be the final judge in this 
matter.” 


230 


THE bride’s fate. 


So this is your decision ? 

** Yes, dear Anna.’^ 

They might have talked longer, hut Pina, who had been 
fast asleep in her chair all this time, now tumbled off it and 
fell upon the floor with a noise that terrified both the friends 
and started them upon their feet. 

It is only that girl — how she frightened me ! I thought 
it was some one breaking into the room !” exclaimed Anna, 
trembling as Pina picked herself up and stood staring in 
dismay. 

“ Poor girl ! how thoughtless of me to have forgotten 
her ! Go to bed, Pina, it is half-past twelve,” said Dru- 
silla, kindly. 

And the maid, still more than half asleep, tumbled off to 
her cot in a closet adjoining her mistress’s chamber. 

Anna also arose, and, bidding Drusilla good-night, passed 
to her own room. 

Drusilla went to bed, but not to sleep. She lay revolv- 
ing the problem that Anna had left her to solve. Should 
she enter London society at all under her present circum- 
stances ? 

And yet, neither her party nor herself had gone to any 
sort of private entertainment. They had left cards on the 
people to whom the general had letters- of introduction. 
And they had received calls from many of them. Also 
they had many notes of invitation to dinners, balls, concerts, 
and fetes of every description ; but, as yet none of these 
notes had fallen due. So Drusilla stood uncommitted to 
the world by either name or title. 

Kow the question with her was this, — Should she go to 
parties at all ? 

If she should, she was resolved it should be only under 
her simple name. But then, if being the wife of Lord 
Killcrichtoun, she should go only as Mrs. Lyon, would she 
not be, as Anna said, appearing under false colors ? 


MEETING EVERY DAY. 


231 


' Would it not be better, all things considered, that she 
should live secluded? 

Ah, hut then Alexander was in the world, and the 
temptation to go where she might enjoy the happiness 
of seeing him daily, even though he should never speak to 
her, w’as irresistible ! She could not deny herself that 
delight. 

Then, finally, she determined to speak to her old friend, 
General Lyon, on the subject ; and with her mind more at 
ease, she fell asleep. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

MEETING EVERT DAT. 

We that were friends, yet are not now. 

We that must daily meet. 

With ready words and courteous bow. 

Acquaintance of the street. 

We must not scorn the holy past, 

We must remember still 
To honor feelings that outlast 
The reason and the will. — Milneb, 

Xext morning, over an early breakfast, our party dis- 
cussed, with their tea, toast, muffins, and fried soles, the 
programme of the week. 

How crowded their life in London was getting to he! 
Every day, every hour, nay, every moment, we might say, 
pre-engaged ! 

We go to Westminster Abbey first. The Seymours are 
to go with us, and are to join us here at ten o’clock. It is 
after nine now,” said the general, as he chipped his egg. 

They will not be behind time, you may depend on it,’^ 
laughed Dick. We shall be able to get off by ten o’clock, 
and get into the Abbey by a quarter past. It will take us 
at least three hours to do Westminster, which will bring 


232 


THE BRIBERS FATE. 

one o’clock or a little later, when we can get lunch at 
Simmon’s, in Threadneedle street, — an old-established 
house, celebrated for its green turtle and its punch this 
century past. After which we will still have time to see 
St. Paul’s, and to get home in season for our five o’clock 
dinner.” 

And remember, Dick, that we must not he later, for we 
have a box this evening at Drury Lane, to see the Keans.” 

“ All right, Anna ! we are not likely to forget that.” 

And let us see ! what is the programme for to-morrow ? ” 
inquired the general. 

‘‘I do not think that has been arranged yet,” said 
Drusilla. 

Then let it he the British Museum and the Koyal 
Academy.” 

Oh, no, grand-pa ! We must go to Windsor to- 
morrow ; and I’ll tell you why. It will take a whole 
day and night to go to Windsor, see it all, and return. 
And to-morrow is the only whole day we have at our 
disposal. For on Thursday we are engaged to dinner at 
Lord Esteppe’s, and to a concert at Mrs. Marcourt’s. On 
Friday we are to breakfast with the Warrens and to go 
to a ball at our Minister’s ; and on Saturday we are 
promised to the Whartons for their fete at Kichmond. 
Now out of either of these days we might take a few 
hours to see any London sights ; but for Windsor we 
must have an unbroken day, and to-morrow is the only 
one of this week, or of next -week either for that matter, 
left at our disposal.” 

“ That is Yevy true, my dear. Bless my soul, how we 
are crowded with engagements ! It is very flattering, of 
course, and very pleasant, I suppose ; but — it is just a little 
harassing also. Dick, have you ordered a barouche ? ” 

“No, sir; but I have finished breakfast, and if you will 
excuse me I will go and do so now; or, rather, I mean I 


MEETING EVERY DAY. 


283 


will walk around to the livery stable and choose a good one 
myself/’ answered Mr. Hammond, rising from the table 
and leaving the room. 

With an excuse for her absence, Anna followed him. 

As the general was still toying with his breakfast, Dru- 
silla lingered to keep him company. 

The waiter had retired and the two were alone, a circum- 
stance so unusual, and so unlikely to happen again, that 
Drusilla thought this to be her best opportunity for con- 
sulting him upon the difficulty that now perplexed her 
mind. 

So while the old gentleman sat trifling with a delicate 
section of his fried sole, Drusilla abruptly entered upon the 
subject : 

Uncle, we are all invited to a great many places ; and 
we have accepted all the invitations. But before I go to 
any party I would like to have a talk with you.” 

Well, my dear, talk away ! what is it about ? ” inquired 
the old man, somewhat surprised by the gravity of her 
manner. 

‘‘Uncle, is it quite right that I, a forsaken wife, should 
go so much into the world ? ” 

“ My child, I thought that question had been asked' and 
answered two years ago at Old Lyon Hall.” 

“ So it was, you dear uncle, answered in a way to give 
me pleasure as well as peace. But the circumstances are 
different now from what they were then. Then we were in 
your own familial neighborhood, among your own old coun- 
trj^ friends and neighbors, who loved and honored you so 
much that they would have received with gladness and 
courtesy any one whom you might choose to present as a 
member of your family. But here, dear uncle, it is differ- 
ent ; we are in a foreign city and among strangers.” 

“ Tes, my child, but among strangers who are hospitable 
and courteous ; and to whom I have brought such letters 


234 THE bride’s fate. 

of introduction as must secure a hearty welcome hotli to 
myself and every member of my famil}^ Have no fears or 
doubts, little Drusa. You who are blameless must not be 
‘ sent to Coventry ^ as if you were faulty.” 

Drusilla sighed and continued : 

“ Uncle, there is another circumstance that complicates 
the case very much.” 

Well, my dear, and what is it? ” 

* At home I was known as Mrs. Lyon, which was my 
true name ; but here, since Alick has made good his claim 
to the Scotch barony, I have another name and title,” said 
Urusilla, so solemnly that the general laid down his fork 
and laughed heartily as he answered : 

And so, my dear, you want us to introduce you as Lady 
Killchrichtoun ! ” 

Oh, no, no, no ! ” exclaimed Urusilla, earnestly, not 
so ! I do not want that ! I would not consent to it ! 
Indeed I would not I Anna can tell you that I said so last 
night ! ” 

And you are right, my child, entirely right ; and I 
commend your good sense in making such a resolution. 
But where then is your difficulty, my dear ? ” 

“ Why, just in this — my hushand being now Lord Kill- 
crichtoun, would I not, by entering society as Mrs. Lj^’cn, 
be appearing under false colors ; and rather than do that 
had I not better eschew society altogether ? ” 

Ho, my dear ; a thousand noes to both your questions I 
You are known to yourself and to your nearest relations 
and best friends, and to myself who introduce and endorse 
you, as Mrs. Lyon. And by that name I shall continue to 
call you and to present you. Who knows you to be Lady 
Killcrichtoun ? or even Alick to be Lord Killcrichtoun ? 
Do you know it? Do I ? Does he himself? He calls 
himself so ; but that don’t prove it is so. The newspapers 
affirm it ; but that don’t prove it ! The world accepts him 


MEETING EVERT DAY. 


235 


as such ; but that don’t prove either — at least to us who 
have always known him only as Mr. Lyon, and haven’t 
examined the evidences that he is anybody else. Similarly 
we have known you only as Mrs.' Lyon, and shall take you 
with us everywhere and introduce you as such ; at least 
until A lick himself assures to you your other title.” 

‘‘ Thank you, dear uncle. Again your decision has 
given me pleasure as well as peace. I did wish to go 
everywhere with you and Anna ; but I was resolved to go 
only as Mrs. Lyon, though I was afraid that by doing so I 
should appear under false colors. But your clear and wise 
exposition has set all ray anxieties at rest. I am glad you 
still wish me to go into company,” said Drusilla, ear- 
nestlj^ 

My dear, I have a motive for wishing you to go. Dru- 
silla, my child, you and I may surely confide in each 
other ? ” 

As the dearest father and child, dear uncle, yes.” 

‘^Then, Drusa, my darling, in these two years that you 
have been with us, I have studied you to some purpose. I 
see you very cheerful, my child, hut I know that you are 
not quite happy. Something is wanting, and of course I 
see what it is; — it is Alexander, since you still love him 
with unchanging constancy.” 

“ Oh, yes, y^s, yes,” breathed Drusilla, in a very low 
tone. 

I know you do. Well, as you love Alick, so he needs 
you, whether he knows it or not. You are the angel of his 
life, and the only power under Heaven that can save him. 

I know Alexander well. I have known him from his 
infancy, and of course I know all the strong and all the 
weak points in his character.” 

Drusilla raised her eyes to the old man’s face with a dep- 
recating and pleading expression. 

Fear nothing, my child ; I am not going to abuse him 


236 


THE bride’s fate. 


at least not to you ; in saying that he has his weak points 
I say no more of him than I might say of myself or any 
other man. But it is through their weakness men are 
often sav.ed as well as through their strength. Listen to 
me, my dear Drusilla.” 

“ I am listening, sir.” 

Well, then, Alick’s chief weakness is that he can only 
admire through the eyes of the world, for which he has 
always had the greatest veneration.” 

“ Do you think so, sir ? Ah, surely he was not consid- 
ering the world’s opinion when he married me, his house- 
keeper’s daughter,” pleaded Drusilla. 

Iso ; passion, if he is capable of feeling it at all, makes 
even a worldly man forget the world sometimes. And, 
pardon me, my dear Drusilla, if I say that he married you 
for your personal attractions, for your perfect beauty and 
brilliant genius — of that in your nature which is fairer 
than beauty and brighter than genius, and better and love- 
lier than both, he knew nothing at all j he has yet to learn 
of them.” 

Drusilla, blushing deeply under this praise, which was 
hut just tribute, kept her eyes fixed upon the floor. Gene- 
ral Lyon continued : 

“ Yes, my dear, he is worldly — he worships the world 
and sees through the eyes of the world. What was it that 
blinded him to your sweet domestic virtues and tempted 
him from your side? It was the brilliant social success 
of Anna — of Anna, for whom he cared not a cent, and 
whom he had really jilted for your sake ; but with whom 
he actually fancied himself in love as soon as he found her 
out to be belle of the season, the queen of fashion, and all 
that ephemeral rubbish.” 

Drusilla sighed, but made no answer. 

lie has got over all that nonsense, believe me. He 
regards Anna now, probably, very much is he did when he 


MEETING EVERT DAY. 


237 


jilted her for you and before her splendid season in Wash 
ington had so dazzled and maddened him. He has gotten 
over that nonsense ; hut not over the worldliness that led 
him into it ; for that is a part of his nature. And now, 
Drusa, I will tell you why I wish to introduce you into the 
most fashionable society here.’^ 

Drusilla looked up with eager attention. 

Because in society here you are sure to eclipse Anna 
and every other beauty of her type.” 

“ Oh, uncle ! ” 

My dear, I am speaking fact, not flattery. Anna is 
beautiful ; we will grant that ; hut she is of that large, 
fair style, so rare in our country that it made her a belle 
there, but which is too common here to make her more 
than one of the pretty women of the season. On the con- 
trary, your style, Drusilla, more common in America, is 
extremely rare here. You will he new. You will make 
what women call a ^ sensation.^ Alick will see it, and he 
will discover his folly, if he never finds out his sin in 
having left you. There, Drusa ! there is the old man’s 
policy, worthy of a manoeuvering chaperon, is it not ? ” 
Drusilla knew not what to reply. For her own part she 
didn’t like anything that savored of policy.” She longed 
— oh, how intensely ! — for a reconciliation with her hus- 
band ; it was her one thought by day, her one dream by 
night, her one aspiration in life ! but she did not want it 
brought about by any sort of manoeuvering. Perhaps the 
general read her thoughts, for he said earnestly : 

I see you do not quite approve my plan, dear child. 
You would rather Alick’s own better nature should bring 
liim back to his wife and babe j but ah, my dear, who can 
appeal to that better nature so successfully as yourself? 
and how can you ever appeal to it unless you have him to 
yourself? And how can you have him, unless you attract 
him in the way I suggest. Let him see you appreciated by 


238 


THE bride’s fate. 


others, that he may learn to appreciate you himself. Let 
him seek you because others admire you ; and then when 
you have him again, you may trust your own love to win 
his heart forever ! — But here is Dick, and, bless me, yes ; 
here are all the Seymours, at his heels ! 

Colonel Seymour and his family entered, marshalled in 
by Dick. And there were cordial morning salutations and 
hand-shakings. 

The carriages were waiting. Drusilla ran off to call 
Anna and to put on her own bonnet. 

And in a few minutes the whole party started on their 
sight-seeing excursion. 

The programme of the day was carried out. They went 
just to Westminster Abbey and saw there the wonders and 
beauties of several successive orders of architecture. They 
saw the most ancient chapel of Edward the Confessor, con- 
taining the tomb of that Boyal Saint, '^and the old corona- 
tion chair and other memorials of the Saxon kings, and the 
remains of many of their Norman successors. 

They saw the splendid chapel of Henry the Seventh, 
with the beautiful tomb of that fierce paladin, conqueror 
of Bichard Third, and founder of the sanguinary Tudor 
dynasty ; and of his meek consort, Elizabeth of York, sur- 
named the Good. And there also they saw, oh strange 
juxta-position ! the tombs of that beautiful Mary Stuart, 
and of her rival and destroyer, the ruthless Elizabeth 
Tudor ; and the tombs of many other royal and noble 
celebrities besides. 

And they examined many other chapels, filled with the 
monuments and memorials of kings and queens, knights 
and ladies, heroes and martyrs, poets and philosophers, who 
had adorned the history of the country and of the world, 
from the foundation of the Abbey to the present time. 

At one o’clock, before they had inspected one-tenth part 
of the interesting features of this venerable edifice, they 


MEETING EVERY DAY. 


289 


took leave of Westminster Abbey, promising themselves 
another and a longer visit, and they went to ^ Simmons’ ’’ 
to lunch. 

At two o’clock they visited St. Paul’s Cathedral. 

Time and space would fail us here to give the slightest 
outline of the wonders of that most wonderful cathedral. 
The mere ascent of St. Paul’s from the crypt to the cupola 
might be, in some degree, compared to the ascent of Mont 
Blanc — at least in toil and fatigue, if not in danger and 
distance. To give the most cursory description of its mar- 
vels of architecture, sculpture, paintings and decorations, 
would fill volumes and be out of place here. After three 
or four hours spent there, our party returned to their hotel, 
utterly wearied, dazzled and distracted ; and with only two 
images standing out distinctly from the magnificent chaos 
in their minds — the mausoleums of Lord Nelson and the 
Duke of Wellington, the great sailor and the great soldier 
of England standing side by side in the crypt of the 
Cathedral. 

“ My dear,” said the general, that evening over his cup 
of tea, when we laid out our plans for this week we had 
no idea what was before us ! No wise man crowds so much 
sight-seeing into so little time. It is as wrong to surfeit 
the brain as it is to overload the stomach. As for me I am 
suffering from a mental indigestion, and I would rather not 
attempt Windsor Castle, or any other stupendous place or 
thing, until I have got over Westminster Abbey and St. 
Paul’s Cathedral. So what do you say to postponing all 
sight-seeing for the remainder of this week ? ” 

Drusilla and Anna eagerly assented ; for, in truth, they 
wanted some leisure for shopping and for arranging toilets 
in which to appear at the minister’s ball. And Dick was 
too polite to offer any opposition. 

So the next day, while the general and Dick staid at 
home to lounge, read, or smoke, Anna and Drusilla drove 


240 


THE bride’s fate. 


to the West End, and ransacked all the most fashionable 
stores in Oxford, Kegent, and Bond streets in search of 
new styles of flowers, laces, gloves, and so forth. 

And never did the vainest young girl, in her first season, 
evince more anxiety about her appearandfe than did poor 
Drusilla, who was not vain at all. But then the young 
wife knew that she would be sure to meet her husband at 
the minister’s ball, and that her future happiness might 
depend upon so small a circumstance as the impression she 
might make there. Eor once in her innocent life, but for 
his sake only, she longed for a social triumph. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE ambassadress’ BALL. 

I do not question what thou art. 

Nor what thy life in great or small; 

Thou art, I know, what all my heart 
Must beat or break for. That Is all. — O wbn Mehedith. 

The front of that handsome house in Cavendish Square, 
known then as the American Embassy, blazed with light. 
Not only the street before it, hut the cross-streets around 
the corners were thronged with carriages. 

Our Ambassadress was giving her first ball of the season, 
and the Mite of London were to honor it with their pres- 
ence. 

Many another house would have been crowded to suffoca- 
tion with the company that assembled in this ; hut here, so 
spacious were the corridors and staircases, so very spacious 
the halls and saloons, that the seven hundred fair and 
noble guests wandered through the decorated and illumined 
rooms, refreshed by pleasant breezes and inspired by de- 
lightful music, and all without the usual accidents of 
crushed toilets and crossed tempers. 


THE ambassadress’ BALL, 


241 


In the first reception room, near the entrance door, stood 
the distinguished ambassador and his accomplished wife 
receiving their friends with their usual cordiality. The 
ambassador wore the dress of a plain American citizen ; 
the ambassadress was resplendent in mazarine blue velvet 
and diamonds. 

At about half-past ten o’clock General Lyon and his 
party were announced and entered the first reception room. 

The general and his nephew wore the stereotyped even- 
ing costume of gentlemen — the black dress-coat and black 
pantaloons and the white vest and white kid gloves. 

Anna wore a mauve c? epe^ looped up with white roses ; 
and white roses in her hair and in her bosom, and pearls 
and amethysts on her neck and arms. 

Drusilla’s toilette was perfect. It was a full dress of 
priceless point lace over a pale maize-colored silk. In her 
hair, on her bosom, and looping up her dress, were clusters 
of snow-drops and crocuses, sprinkled with the dew-drops 
of fine diamonds. The effect of this simple and elegant 
toilette was rich, delicate and beautiful be3’ond comparison. 

General Lj^on and his jmung friends had to stand a few 
moments, while a group who had passed in before them 
paused to pay their respects to the host and hostess. 

At length, when their own turn came, the general took 
precedence of his nephew and led Drusilla up to the ambas- 
sadress. First he shook hands heartily with his old friend 
the ambassador and bowed to the ambassadress, and then 
presented Drusilla as : 

My niece, Mrs. Lyon.” 

Drusilla curtsied deeply, and the minister and his wife 
received her kindly. And after a few common-place cour- 
tesies the general passed on to make room. for Dick and 
Anna, and also to look out for some of his own friends in 
the crowd. 

But ah ! what a suppressed buzz went through the room 

15 


242 


THE bride’s fate. 


as the veteran passed, with the newest beauty of the season 
hanging on his arm. 

What an exquisite young creature ! ” lisped young 
Leslie, of the Guards. 

“ Who is she then ? ” inquired Beresford of the Hus- 
sars. 

Don’t know, I am sure. Does anybody here ? Do 
you Kill. ? You look as if you did,” said Leslie, turning 
to Lord Killcrichtoun, who was standing like a statue star- 
ing after the retreating form of General Lyon and Drusilla, 
who were speedily lost in the crowd. 

The question recalled him to himself. 

Do I — what ? ” he inquired, with assumed carelessness. 

Do you know that lovely girl who passed just now, 
hanging on the arm of that tall, gray-haired old gentle- 
man ? ” 

“ What girl ? I noticed no girl particularly.” 

^‘Chut! are you subject to catalepsy, Kill.?” laughed 
Leslie. 

But who can she he ? Some girl that is just out, I 
suppose. Somebody must know. Let’s go and ask Harry. 
He knows everything,” said Beresford, moving olf. 

^^Stop — find out who the old gentleman is first. He 
looks like a foreigner, and she must be his daughter,” sug- 
gested the Guardsman. 

^^Oh ! by the way ! that is it !” suddenly exclaimed the 
Hussar. 

“ What is it ? Have you made a discovery ? ” 

‘‘ Yes ! you said he looked like a foreigner ; and so the 
whole thing flashed upon me at once. He is the Prince 
Waldemar Pullmynoseoff. Her Majesty received him yes- 
terday. He has a daughter. The Princess Shirra.” 

“ Why certainly ! of course ! undoubtedly ! how could 
we have missed seeing it at once.” 

And so these young men upon their own sole responsibil- 


243 


THE ambassadress’ BALL. 

ity, settled the rank of the simple republican gentleman 
and lady. 

And Alexander Lyon, or Lord Killcricbtoun, smiled as 
he heard this. 

While they spoke several of their acquaintances came 
lounging up. One of them, a fair young man with straw- 
colored hair and moustache, spoke : 

“We have just seen the loveliest little creature. Can 
any of you tell who she is ? ” 

“ Now, in the first place,” said Leslie, maliciously, 
“ where there are so many lovely creatures present, how are 
we to know which you mean ? ” 

“ Oh, you cannot mistake if you have seen her ! the most 
perfect beauty of the season. She wore-^there now I can- 
not tell you what she wore ; but her dress was the most 
elegant as she was the most beautiful in the room,” per- 
sisted the young man, pulling at his fair moustache. 

“Now look here, Duke — taste in beauty and taste in 
dress differ so much, you know. How can 1 tell what in- 
dividual girl you mean when you t^lk of thp most beautiful 
creature in the most elegant toilet in the room ? Why, 
there are hundreds of beautiful women in elegant toilets 
present, and each one of them may be the beautiful 

and the mosi elegant to some one else’s particular fancy. 

“ Ah ! bah, Leslie, that may be all very true of common- 
place beauties ; but I tell you, and you know it is true, that 
there are some beauties whom every bod}' acknowledges to 
be pre-eminent j and of such is the sweet creature who 
passed here like a beam of sunshine— an exquisite crea- 
ture ! Stop chaffing now and tell me, if you know, who 
she is.” 

“ Was she leaning on the arm of a tall, gray-haired 
gentleman ? ” asked Leslie, laughing. 

“Yes! yes!” 

“ Oh then, yes, I know her. She is the Princess Shirraj 


244 


THE bride’s fate. 


daughter of Prince Waldermar Pullmynoseoff. He is 
here on a visit; some say on a private mission. Her 
majesty received him yesterday.” 

“ Daughter of old Pullmynoseoff. I’ll go and get in- 
troduced/’ said the young duke, hurrying ^away. 

Again Alexander laughed within himself. He was 
somewhat amused by the mistake those discerning gentle- 
men had made in supposing Drusilla to he the little 
Kussian princess ; but he was also bitterly jealous of the 
admiration so generally expressed for his beautiful, young, 
forsaken wife ; and he was deeply indignant that men 
should take her for a girl to he wooed and won. 

He followed the duke. He could not help it. He 
wanted to see the end of this adventure, in which the 
j^oung duke went in search of Drusilla and the Princess 
Shirra, both in one. He followed him through the mazes 
of the whole suit of rooms ; and everywhere he heard the 
same suppressed murmur of admiration, curiosity and con- 
jecture of which the new beauty was the subject. Others 
beside the group of officers took her for the newly-arrived 
Bussian Princess. 

Look at her diamonds — a shower of dewdrops over her 
flowers,” murmured one lady. 

“ They cannot all be real. Some must be paste among 
80 many,” objected another. 

Paste ! Look at her point-lace dress, then, more costly 
still than her diamonds. None but a princess of the high- 
est rank could wear such a priceless robe.” 

Alexander passed on, leaving these people to their dispute, 
and followed the young duke until he stopped before a group 
of ladies and gentlemen. The ladies were seated on the 
sofa, and the gentlemen were standing before them. 

The duke bowed and exchanged the courtesies of the 
evening, and then, turning to one of the gentlemen, said ; 

“ Lord John, you presented the Prince Waldermar Pull- 


THE AMBASSADBESS’ BALL. 245 

mjnoseoff to Her Majesty yesterday. Will you be good 
enough to present me to the prince this evening ? 

“With pleasure, Lillespont. Come!” said the Lord 
John, at once turning to lead the way. 

“ I think his daughter decidedly the most beautiful wor 
man in the house,” said the Duke of Lillespont, as they 
threaded their way through the crowd, closely followed by 
Alexander. “Unquestionably the most beautiful woman 
here,” repeated His Grace, as if challenging contradiction. 

“ Do you ? I am rather surprised to hear you say so,” ob- 
served Lord John. 

“ The most beautiful woman I have ever seen — that is, if 
one may call so young a creature a woman at all,” he added. 

“Young?” repeated Lord John, raising his eyebrows. 
“ Ah, but then you are at a time of life when all women’s 
ages are alike, I suppose.” 

And, saying this in rather a low tone. Lord John paused 
before a gentleman and lady seated on a sofa, around 
which quite a court of worshippers were gathered. 

Waiting for a few minutes for a fair opportunity, and 
then gently making his way through the circle, Lord 
John took his prot^g^, and said: 

“ Prince, permit me to present to your Highness the 
Duke of Lillespont; Duke, — Prince Waldemar Pullmy- 
noseoff ! ” 

And, before the young duke could recover from his 
surprise and disappointment, he found himself bowing 
deeply before a little dry, rusty, scrubby, hairy old gentle- 
man, who looked more like a very aged and very cunning 
monkey than a man, not to say a prince. However, he was 
certainly a European celebrity, filled full of diplomacy, cov- 
ered over with orders, and possessed of a string of titles — 
all told — a yard and a quarter long. So the duke bolted 
his disappointment and bowed his body low before the royal 
and venerable mummy. 


246 


THE bride’s fate. 


And then he was presented to a little, withered woma% 
very like the prince, and looking very little younger, but so 
covered with jewels of all sizes and colors that she presented 
the idea of an elderly fire-fly. 

Again the duke bowed low, and exerted himself to be 
agreeable, but he was very glad when the coming up of 
another party gave him an excuse to make his final bow 
and withdraw. 

Alexander, grinning like Mephistophiles, still followed. 

‘‘ I was quite mistaken in the princess. It was another 
whom I took to be Prince Waldemar’s daughter,” said 
Lillespont, deeply annoyed that he should have led any one 
to believe so ill of his tastes as that he should have fallen 
in love with the elderly fire-fly. 

“ Hem ! I thought you had made some mistake of the 
sort,” said Lord John kindly. 

Oh, yes, quite another sort of person ! a lovely young 
creature, just out of the schoolroom, I should say. Ah, 
there — there she is now, sitting within that window ! ” sud- 
denly exclaimed the young man as an opening in the crowd, 
like a rift in the clouds, showed a vista at the farther end 
of which a bay window lined with lilies and roses and occu- 
pied by General Lyon and his party, and by a select circle 
of their particular friends. 

“ There ! that lovely, dark-eyed houri, looking the very 
spirit of spring and youth, clothed with sunshine, adorned 
with flowers, and spangled with diamond-dew ! Do you 
know her ? ” 

Know her ? Stop, — let me see. I know that party 
she is with. I met them here at this house a few mornings 
ago. Let me see, — there is General Lyon, and Mr. and 
Mrs. Hammond, and — ^yes, the young creature you admire 
BO justly is Mrs. Lyon.” 

^ MrsJ — did you mean to say ^ Mrs. ? ^ ” 

Yes, ^ Mrs.’ I remember perfectly well being as much 


THE ambassadress’ BALL. 247 

•urprised as you are at seeing so cliild-like a 'creature intro- 
duced by a matronly title. 

But she is never the wife of that old man ? It would 
not — that sort of union — be May and December, it would 
be April and J anuary 1 ” 

“ Oh, no, she is not his wife — she is his niece, I think. 
Yes, I am sure he introduced her as his niece, Mrs. Lyon.” 

Mrs. Lyon ? that child.” 

“ Well, I tell you, I was as much surprised as you are to 
hear her called so ; but then I reflected that in America, 
as in all young nations, people marry at a very early age.” 

Ah I but where is Mr. Lyon ? ” very pertinently 
inquired Lillespont. 

Oh, Mr. Lyon ? I don’t know that there is any Mr. 
Lyon. I have somehow or other received the impression 
that this childish beauty is a young widow, and a very 
wealthy one also.” 

A youthful, beautiful, and wealthy widow,” said Lille- 
spont, musingly. Lord J ohn, you say you know her, — 
will you introduce me ? ” 

With pleasure, — come,” said the elder man, leading 
the way to the bay-window. 

Alexander followed them no further, but muttering to 
himself : 

Ass, puppy, coxcomb !” and other injurious epithets — 
probably applied to Lillespont — withdrew to a convenient 
spot from which, unseen, he could see all that might be 
going on in the bay-window. 

He saw the old gentleman called Lord John take Lille- 
spont up and present him to General Lyon, who forthwith 
presented him to the ladies of his party. And next he saw 
the young duke bow deeply to Drusilla, and make some 
request, to which she graciously responded. And then he 
saw her rise and give her hand to Lillespont, who, with 
the air of a conqueror, led her off 


248 


THE BKIDe’s fate. 


Alexander ground his teeth together with rage and jeal- 
ousy. 

They passed down the room and onward towards the 
dancing saloon, where new quadrilles were being formed. 
And the duke led his beautiful partner to the head of one 
set. And there as everywhere else a low, half-suppressed, 
hut sincere murmur of admiration followed her. 

Alexander foamed with fury, and hurried away from the 
scene because he could not trust himself to remain. 

Of course he had not the least right to be jealous or 
indignant, hut just because he had no such right — and he 
knew it — he was all the more furious. It enraged him to 
see her looking so beautiful, blooming, happy, and inde- 
pendent of him, enjoying herself and exciting universal 
admiration in society, when he thought, by rights, she 
ought to be pale, and sad, and moping in some obscure 
place. It infuriated him to see her the object of another 
man’s homage. 

And that puppy, perdition seize him ! takes her to be 
a young widow ; is thinking now perhaps of asking her to 
be his wife ! His wife ! ” And here Alexander ground 
down unuttered curses between his set teeth. 

Ah, could he have looked into his young wife’s heart, his 
anger must have been appeased. Could he have seen how 
little she cared for all the homage she received, except in 
so much as it might make her more worthy in his eyes ! 
Truly she smiled on the young duke at her side — not 
because he was young and handsome and a duke, but 
because it was her sunny, genial, grateful nature to smile 
on all who tried to please her. Yes ! to smile on all who 
tried to please her, while from the depth of her heart she 
sighed to please but one on earth. 

Alexander found food enough for his insane jealousy. 
Hrusilla was the acknowledged beauty of the season. 
Ever^’^where he heard her murmured praises. Every one 


THE ambassadress’ BALL. 


249 


supposed her to be a young widow. Some genius, indebted 
to his iuiagination for his facts, had fancied that because 
Mrs. Lyon, the supposed young widow, was niece-in-law to 
old General Lyon, therefore the husband of Mrs. Lyon had 
been a military officer who had been killed in the war 
between the United States and Mexico; and had so effect- 
ually started the report that before the evening was over 
every one had heard that Captain Lyon had been shot 
while gallantly leading his company at the storming of 
Chepul tepee. Of course this report never once reached the 
ears of the General or Mrs. Lyon, or of Mr. or Mrs. Ham- 
mond. Reports seldom do reach the ears of those most 
concerned in them ; and false reports never. 

But Alexander was doomed to hear it all. 

Kill., have you seen the newest beauty out ? ” inquired 
young Hepsworth of the Dragoons. There she is danc- 
ing with Prince Ernest of Hohenlinden. She is engaged 
ten sets deep ; but I come in for the eleventh for the Lan- 
cers. That is after supper. Look at her now, as she turns. 
Isn’t she perfect ? Just perfect ? ” 

“ Who is she ? ” growled Alexander, feeling himself 
called upon to say something. 

“ Who is she ? Not Satan in the form of an angel of 
light, as one might judge from the tone of your question. 
She is Mrs. Lyon, a young widow, though you V 70 uld hardly 
suppose her ever to have been a wife. But you know how 
early girls marry in America, stepping from the cradle to 
the altar, one might say. However, that young creature 
has been married and widowed. Husband, gallant fellow, 
lost his life in leading a forlorn hope in the storming of 
Chehuaple — Chehuapaw — Chehua-peltemback, or some 
such barbarously named place.” 

Oh ! he did, did he ? ” 

“ Oh, ye®, bless you ! And I am very much obliged to 
him for doing so; but she was perfectly inconsolable foi 


250 


THE bride’s fate. 


three years. But she has at last left off her weeds, as you 
see. And we may suppose she is in the market.” 

Ah ! she is, is she ? ” 

Oh, yes ! Lovely creature ! And stu-'PBN-dously rich 
too ! ” exclaimed the dragoon. 

Oh, she is rich ? ” sneered Alexander. 

“ Eich ? She’s a California Croesus’ ! A great catch for 
some fortunate fellow ! ” 

It would not do to take a gentleman by the throat and 
shake him there in the ambassadress’ drawing-room ; yet 
Alexander could scarcely refrain from lajdng hands on. the 
dragoon who continued very innocently piling up wrath. 

^^Do you know, I think Lillespont is taken? Lilles- 
pont who has escaped all the man-traps set for him for the 
last four years, since he first appeared in the world ? But 
then this young creature is such a perfect novelty! It 
would be of no use for a captain of dragoons to enter the 
lists against a duke, else hang me if I did not go in for the 
little beauty myself,” said the young of&cer, complacently 
drawing himself up, sticking out a neat leg, and caressing 
his moustache. 

You are an ass ! ” exclaimed Alexander, turning on his 
heel and walking away. 

The astonished dragoon gazed after him in a sort of 
stupor, and then, still pawing at his moustache, mut- 
tered : 

^^Per Bacco! what a rude savage! Very great bore! 
but I shall have to challenge him. And hang me if I 
have the least idea what the row is about. However, I 
must stay here until I keep my engagement with the little 
beauty for the Lancers, and then — to teach that uncivilized 
brute that he is not to indulge his savage propensities in 
ladies’ drawing-rooms.” 

And so saying, the young fellow, who with all his 
effeminancy, was brave enough, sauntered away to look up 


THE ambassadress’ BALL. 251 

a brother officer to act as his second, and afterwards to wait 
for his partner in the Lancers, hjs mind being equally oc- 
cupied by the thoughts of dancing and duelling. 

Meanwhile, Alexander had moved to another stand-point, 
from which, unseen by her, he could follow every movement 
of his beautiful and admired young wife. 

“ I suppose,” he muttered to himself, “ I shall have to 
meet that young coxcomb. For after what I said to him, 
unless he is a poltroon as well as a puppy, he will challenge 
me. Well ! I don’t care a rush for my own life, and it is 

not likely that I should care for his Yes ! and by all 

that is maddening, there is another fellow I shall have to 
fight ! ” he exclaimed, as he w'atched Prince Ernest of 
Hohenlinden, who was bestowing on the beauty of the 
evening much more devotion than it was at all necessary 
to show to a mere partner in the dance. 

Just then the dance came to an end, and his Highness 
led Drusilla back to her seat beside Mrs. Hammond in the 
bay window. 

Alexander followed, keeping out of her sight. 

I fear you are very much fatigued,” said Prince Ernest, 
still retaining her hand, and gazing with respectful tender- 
ness upon her flushed cheeks and brilliant eyes. ‘‘ Let me 
bring you an ice,” he continued, with affectionate solici- 
tude. 

^^Ho, thanks,” said Drusilla, courteously, but withdraw- 
ing her hand. 

A glass of water then ? ’ 

Nothing, thanks.” 

‘^The rooms are very warm. Will you permit me to 
take you into the conservatory. It is open and airy there.” 

“ Much obliged ; but I am very well here,” said Drusilla^ 
iweetly. 

“ Permit me this privilege at least,” pleaded the prince, 
gently possessing himself of her fan and beginning to fan 

her. 


252 


THE bride’s fate. 


Alexander set his teeth and ground his heel into the 
floor, growling within himself: 

• Confound him, what does he mean ? I know I shall 
have to fight him ! ” 

But if Alexander meant to call out all Drusilla^s ad- 
mirers, who, believing her to he a widow, were ready to 
become her lovers, he would have his hands as full of 
fights as the most furious fii^-eater might desire. 

While Prince Ernest was still standing before Drusilla 
fanning her, and in every admissible mariner exhibiting his 
devotion to her, a very handsome, martial looking man, of 
about thirty years of age, wearing the uniform of an Aus- 
trian field marshal, and having his breast covered with 
orders, came up and, bowing low before the beauty, claimed 
her hand for the quadrille then forming. 

Alexander knew him for General Count Molaski, an 
officer high in the Austrian service, and one of the most 
distinguished foreigners then in London. He led his lovely 
partner to the floor, where she was soon moving gracefully 
through the mazes of the dance. 

Her head will be turned ! — her head will be completely 
turned ! Who w'ould ever have dreamed of her coming 
here to play the role of a beauty — of a queen of beauties — 
in society ! Aye, and with a fortune of her own, and the 
countenance of General Lyon’s family to sustain her in it. 
Perdition ! I wish to Heaven she had never left Cedar- 
wood — never inherited that fortune — never been taken up 
by that old Don Quixote, my uncle ! Then I might have 
had some chance of a reconciliation with her; but now — I 
have no hope at all. If she has not already forgotten me, 
these flatterers will soon make her do so. Ah ! great 
Heaven, I was certainly blind and mad ever to have left 
her ! I always loved her — when did I love her not ? And 
to have left her whom I did love for Anna wffiom I only 
idmired ! Why, look at Anna now. Only what is com- 


THE ambassadress’ BALL. 253 

monly called a fine woman here. There are a hundred in 
this room as pretty as Anna ; but look at Drusilla^ my wife 
— she is my wife, after all ! She is the most beautiful 
woman present, and the best dressed. 3Iy choice has been 
endorsed by th-e ..verdict of the best judges of beauty the 
world possesses. She was my choice. I thought her all 
that these judges have decided her to be. Yes, yes, I 
thought her so when she was without the adventitious aids 
of wealth, rank, dress, and general admiration to enhance 
her charms ! How could I have left her ? I was mad — 
just mad ! No lunatic in Bedlam ever madder ! ” 

By this it will be seen that Alexander Lyon, Lord Kill- 
crichtoun, had in his heart — for no one knows how long 
— returned to his first love — perhaps his only love — and 
was now consuming with a hopeless passion for his own 
discarded wife. 

“ When I first saw our boy, what a shock of mingled joy 
and pain the sight gave me ! I scarcely needed the cham- 
bermaid’s information that he was Mrs. Lyon’s little son. 
I knew him at once from his likeness fo his mother. True, 
he has the hair and eyes of our family, but he has his 
mother’s beautiful brows and sweet lips. Ah ! what a dolt ! 
what an ass ! what a pig I have been ! ” inwardly groaned 
Alexander, still grinding his teeth together. 

But soon his rage was diverted from himself to Drusilla’s 
partner. 

There she goes,’’ he muttered — swimming through 
the dance as happily as if I were not in existence, and 
were not so wretched. And, set fire to that fellow ! how 

his eyes follow her and seem to feast Ugh ! yes, I 

will be shot if I don’t call him out ! ” 

Hallo Kill.! how do you do? Good evening. Fine 
company assembled here this evening. Good many distin- 
guished foreigners present — nearly the whole diplomatic 
corps also. But all that is nothing to the debut of the 


254 


THE bride’s fate. 


celebrated beauty. You know her, of course,” said young 
Frederic Dorimas, coming up to Alexander’s side, You 
know her ? ” 

Know whom ? ” said Drusilla’s husband, evasively. 

“Why, the beautiful young widow who is turning all 
heads this evening.” 

“ No, I know no young widow here.” 

“ Then you are a very lucky fellow in having such a 
pleasure still to come ; and I shall be happy to present you. 
Now, no thanks, my dear fellow, because I don’t deserve 
them. own heart and hand being already engaged to 

another j^oung lady, I am not free to become a candidate 
for the beautiful widow’s favor, and so I will not play the 
part of the dog in the manger. Come as soon as this 
dance is over, and I will take you up and introduce you.” 

“ Much obliged ; but I prefer to decline the honor,” said 
Alexander, coldly bowing and turning away from his new 
tormentor. 

“Eh, Kill., not dancing this evening? and looking as 
glum as if you had lost a sweetheart or a fortune. What’s 
the matter? Did you bet on a losing horse, or fail to get 
an introduction to the lovely Mrs. Lyon ? ” 

“ Go to the demon with your lovely Mrs. Lyon ! ” burst 
out the sorely tried Alick. 

“ With great pleasure, or anywhere else in the universe 
with her. But, hark you, my lord ! I am not accustomed 
to receive such answers from gentlemen j and by my life, 
sir — ” 

But Alexander had turned on his heel and walked off 
again, leaving the last speaker in the middle of his speech. 

Alick, in his utter wretchedness, was behaving very much 
like a brute. He had already insulted one gentleman and 
aifronted another. He was sure of being- called out by 
young Hepsworth of the dragoons, and he was strongly 
inclined to call out some half dozen other gentlemen who 


THE AMBASSADRESS BALL. 255 

had been guilty of dancing with Drusilla and delighting 
in the honor. 

He passe^d on, growling inward curses, and so for some 
moments lost sight of his young wife. 

When he saw her next, she was seated in the hay win- 
dow, with her court of worshippers around her. She alone 
occupied the sofa. 

General Lyon was standing at some distance with a 
group of old friends that he had been so fortunate as to col- 
lect together. 

Anna was waltzing with Henry Spencer. 

Dick was waltzing with Nanny Seymour. 

Drusilla never waltzed, and therefore for the time she 
was sitting alone on the sofa with her court standing 
around her. 

There were Prince Ernest of Hohenlinden, General 
Count Molaski, the Duke of Lillespont, and one or two 
others of the same class. 

Drusilla exhibited none of the awkwardness of a novice 
under such trying circumstances. The only lady in the 
circle, she was nevertheless not only self-possessed and 
graceful, hut she was animated and witty. She kept the 
hall of conversation quickly flying hack and forth, so that 
those about her forgot the passage of time until the cessa- 
tion of the waltz music and the commencement of a march, 
followed by a general movement of the company in one 
direction, proclaimed the opening of the supper rooms. 

With a how. Prince Ernest asked the honor of taking 
Mrs. Lyon into supper. 

With a smile of thanks, she accepted the courtesy, and 
arose. 

And he drew her arm within his own, and proudly led 
her off. 

They passed so near Alexander that he' might have 
stepped upon her dress. But she never turned her eyes in 
his direction. 


256 


THE bride’s fate. 


She has forgotten me — clearly and finally forgotten 
me ! But I will be hanged if I don^t make somebody sen- 
sible of my existence before the night is over ! ” said Alex- 
ander to himself as he followed them. 

At supper the prince waited on the beauty with as mucb 
devotion as ever courtier offered to his queen. 

Near them stood Anna, served by Henry Spencer, and 
Nanny Seymour waited on by Dick. 

There was really nothing at which Alexander had the 
least right to take exception. Yet his blood was boiling 
with jealousy so that he was actually almost frenzied. 

After supper Prince Ernest led Drusilla back to her seat, 
and stood devoting himself to her service until the next 
dance was called and Captain Hepsworth came up to claim 
her as his partner in the Lancers. 

Very sweetly Drusilla smiled on the young dragoon, as 
she gave him her hand and let him lead her forth to the 
dance. 

But not Drusilla’s smile of courtesy nor the young 
officer’s simper of gratified vanity enraged Alick half so 
much as the air and manner assumed by Prince Eniestr 

He, the prince, gazed after the retreating form of the 
beauty until she was lost in the crowd, and then with a 
profound sigh he took possession of her vacated seat, 
picked up a flower that might or might not have fallen 
from her bouquet, pressed it to his lips and put it in his 
bosom. 

“ Pll kill him for that, or he shall kill me ! I hardly 
care which ! ” growled the mdniac in the depth of his 
heart. He would have liked to throttle his Highness on 
the spot ; and in refraining from doing so he only postpon- 
ed his vengeance. 

When the Lancers came to an end Drusilla returned, 
obsequiously attended by the young dragoon, and followed 
by General Lyon and all the members of her party. 


THE ambassadress’ BALL. 


257 


Prince Ernest started up from the sofa and with respect- 
ful tenderness took Drusilla’s hand and placed her in her 
Beat, and remained standing beside her. 

“ My dear, it is four o’clock, and you look very tired— 
had we not better go?” inquired General Lyon, speaking 
in a low tone to Drusilla. 

J ust as you and Anna please, dear uncle. As for my- 
self, I am quite ready,” she replied. 

So am I,” said Mrs. Hammond. 

“ Come then,” said the general, offering his arm to Dru- 
silla. 

“ Pardon me, sir, if you please. I will have the honor 
to attend Madam ! ” exclaimed Prince Ernest. 

With a bow and a queer smile the general gave way. 

And the prince bending before the beauty, took her hand 
and drew her arm wdthin his own and led her on. 

And Alexander from his covert saw all this ; and breath- 
ing maledictions, followed them, first to the presence of the 
ambassador and ambassadress, before whom they paused to 
make their adieux, then to the cloak room, where he saw 
Prince Ernest take Drusilla’s bouquet and hold it with one 
hand, while with the other hand he carefully wrapped her 
in her mantle ; then he followed them down stairs to the 
hall, where they all had to stop and wait some time before 
their carriage could come up — and finally to the sidewalk, 
where he saw Prince Ernest carefully place Drusilla in her 
carriage, and tenderly lift her hand to his lips as he bade 
her good-night. Saw him then gaze upon the faded bou- 
quet that he had taken from the beauty, who had probably 
forgotten to reclaim it — gaze upon it, press it to his lips, 
and place it, as some priceless treasure, in the breast of his 
coat. 

That last act of folly filled up the measure of the 
prince’s offences. It maddened Alexander. Henceforth 
he was no more responsible for his actions than a lunatio. 

16 


258 


THE bride’s fate. 


\ 


Going up to Prince Ernest, he clapped him smartly upon 
the shoulder. 

The prince whirled around with an involuntary expres- 
sion of surprise and anger. 

“ You, sir, I want a word with you ! ” exclaimed Alex- 
ander, breathing hard between his set teeth. 

“ At your pleasure, sare, perhaps ! But, first, who may 
you be ? ’’ replied his highness, with cool hauteur. 

“ There is my card, sir ! I would be glad to have 
yours ? ” 

* Baron Killcrichtoun ? ’ I do not know the name or 
title. Well, Baron, what is your will with me ? ” 

First, sir, that bouquet, which you have had the inso- 
lence to keep! Secondly, sir, satisfaction for the insults 
you have offered to a lady who is near and dear to me I” 

“ Insults !” exclaimed the excitable Austrian, jumping 
off his feet. “ Insults I sare, I never offer insults to a lady 
in my life ! Sare, 3^011 speak von untruth ! Sare, you 
speak von large lie ! Sare, it is I, myself, I, who will have 
von grand satisfaction ! ” 

“ So you shall I but first give me that bouquet ! ” 

“ Sare, I will give you no bouquet ! Sare, I defend my 
bouquet with the best blood of my heart ! Sare, by what 
right you demand my bouquet ? 

“ By a right too sacred to be talked of here ! Give me 
the bouquet that you have stolen ! 

“ ‘ Stolen 1 ’ cried his highness, vaulting into the air. 
** Sare, I will put back that word down your Froat with the 
point of my rapier, sare ! I will have one grand, von very 
grand satisfaction, sare 1 

All right ! I will send a friend to you this morning, 
to arrange the terms of a meeting,^^ said Alexander, turn- 
ing away. 

Make your testament, sare ! I advise you, set jmur 
house in order, sare 1 ” exclaimed the Austrian, shaking 


his hand aloft. Make youi testament, sare ! for, for me, 
myself, I will have von grand satisfaction ! von very grand 
satisfaction ! ” 


CHAPTER XXL 

Alexander’s experience. 

Words of fire and words of scorn 
I have written — let them go ! 

Words of hate — heart-broken, torni 
With this strong and sudden woe. 

All my scorn, she could not doubt. 

Was but love, turned inside out.' — Owbn Mebedith. 

Alice, are you mad ? Think what you do ! ” 

Alick turned quickly and faced Dick Hammond, whose 
hand had touched his shoulder. 

“ Mr. Hammond, you here ? By what right, sir, do you 
dare ” 

“ By the right of kinship. Come, come, Alick, your fa- 
ther and my mother were brother and sister. We are first- 
cousins and old playmates, Alick. We have been rivals, 
but are so no longer. We need not be enemies. Let us be 
friends, Alick,” said Dick, frankly holding out his hand. 

And do you begin yohr overtures of friendship by dog- 
ging my footsteps and spying my actions ? ” demanded 
Alexander, putting his hands behind him. 

Xonsense — no ! ” 

^^Why are you here then, sir? your party have gone 
home.” 

^^Our carriage was full. I lingered behind to call a 
hansom for mj'self, and so became an accidental witness 
to your challenge of Prince Ernest,” said Dick, good- 
humoredly. 

The name of his imaginary rival sent Alexander off i»to 
another fit of frenzy. 


260 


THE bride’s fate. 


Yes, I have challenged the diabolical villain, and, by 
my life, I will meet him ! he exclaimed, grinding out the 
words between his set teeth and livid lips. 

Mr. Hammond knew that to argue with him then and 
thereupon the subject of the intended duel would be as 
useless as to reason with a lunatic. Yet, in a few hours, he 
hoped he might be able to bring him to his senses. 

So, laying his hand kindly upon the demoniac’s arm, he 
said : 

Alick, go home with me, or permit me to go home with 
you, while we talk this matter over.” 

“No ! ” exclaimed the madman violently, throwing off 
the friendly grasp. Leave me to myself — I advise you to 
do so ! ” 

Alick, I dare not leave you, in your present state of 
mind. Even if we were not cousins, we are still country- 
men ! Consider me your sincere friend, and take me with 
you in this crisis of your affairs,” pleaded Dick again, 
gently essaying to restrain the infuriated man. 

No ! leave me alone, I say, Hammond ! for your own 
good, take care of yourself and don’t interfere with a des- 
perate man ! ” cried Alexander, breaking loose. 

A hansom-cab was passing at the moment. 

^^Cab !” cried Alexander, seeing that it was empty. 

The hansom pulled up, and Alexander threw himself into 
it, and was gone before Dick could prevent him. 

I must get another, and follow him if possible,” said 
Mr. Hammond, making the best of his way to the nearest 
cab-stand. 

Meanwhile, General Lyon, Anna, and Drusilla returned 
to their lodgings. 

General Lyon, after a few moments of gay bantering of 
Drusilla upon her social triumphs of the evening, went to 
test. 

Drusilla, as soon as she was free, hurried to her own 
room, to look after her little son. 


Alexander’s experience. 261 

Lenny was sleeping very quietly in his crib, beside bis 
mother’s bed ; although, indeed, as the first beams of the 
morning sun were now glinting through the crevices of the 
window-blinds, it was almost ‘time for Master Lenny to W'ake 
up for his morning bath and airing. 

And now what did the queen of the ball do ? 

Tearing off her jewelled wreath of spring-flowers, and 
throwing aside her gems, she cast herself down upon her 
child’s bed and burst into a passion of tears, and wept and 
sobbed as if her heart would break. 

It was not her sobs or tears that awakened little Lenny. 
They were too silent even in their vehemence to disturb the 
child’s serene rest. It was probably his hour to wake. He 
opened his eyes, and, seeing his mother in so much grief, 
and believing from his brief experience that nothing but 
his own naughtiness ever greved ^‘Doosa,” he put his arms 
around her neck, and said : 

Don’t ky, Doosa — don’t ky ! ’deed Lenny be dood 
boy ! ” 

‘‘ Oh, Lenny, Lenny ! love me, or my heart will break ! ” 
she cried, gathering the child to her bosom and pressing 
him there. 

Lenny do love — don’t ky ! ’deed Lenny be dood boy — 
’deed Lenny will ! ” said the child, kissing and hugging her 
fondly. 

My darling child, you are the only comfort I have in 
this world,” she sobbed, as she squeezed him to her bosom 
and covered him with kisses. 

. “ Hey day ! There, I knew it! and that is the reason I 

came in,” said a voice in the open door-way. 

Drusilla looked up and saw Anna standing there. 

<^I was on my way to my own room, but found your 
door ajar, so I took the liberty to look in,” said Mrs. Ham- 
mond. 

Come in, dear Anna. But I should think you would be 
tired enough to hurry off to bed.” 


262 


THE bride’s fate. 


Ko, not yet ; I haven’t got over the excitement of wit- 
nessing your success, Drusa. And I have so much to say 
about it before I can sleep. And besides Dick hasn’t got 
in yet.” 

Are you uneasy about him, Anna ? ” sympathetically 
inquired Drusilla. 

“Not at all. I suppose he hasn’t been able to pick up a 
cab and has perhaps started to walk home. Uneasy ? 
No indeed ! what is to hurt him in broad daylight ? But, 
Drusilla, you have been crying ! You have been crying 
hard ! Now was it ever heard that the belle of the evening 
came home from her triumphs and cried ? ” said Mrs. Ham- 
mond, sitting down beside her friend. 

“ Oh, Anna ! Anna ! Oh, Anna ! Anna ! if you knew 
how little my heart was in it all ! What could I care for 
all those strange people — I who only longed to be reconciled 
with my Alick ! ” she answered, bursting into a torrent of 
tears. 

He was there,” said Anna, quietly. 

“Do I not know it? He was there all the evening. 
He was near me many times. I felt that he was, though I 
did not see him j for oh, Anna, I was afraid to look towards 
him and meet again that cold and cutting gaze that almost 
slew me in the Tower ! ” 

“Don’t ky, Doosa! Pease don’t ky. Deed Lenny be 
dood boy. Let Lenny wipe eye,” said the child, taking up 
the edge of his night-gown and trying to dry his mother’s 
tears.- 

“ My darling, you are good, and I won’t cry to distress 
you, poor little soul. I should have died long ago if it 
hadn’t been for you, my little angel. There, Doosa has 
done crying now,” she said, wiping her eyes and smiling on 
the child. 

“ Drusa, my dear, you were very brilliant last evening ; 
not only beautiful, but brilliant. I really thought you en- 


Alexander’s experience. 263 

joyed queening it in society. You laughed and talked and 
danced the whole evening. I should never have suspected 
you of playing a part.” 

Oh Anna ! I was not exactly playing a part either. 
Oh, Anna, you have heard how the timid Chinese sound 
a gong and make a terrible noise to drown their own 
fears and to dismay their foes when they go into battle ? 
Anna, it was much the same with me. I had to laugh and 
talk and dance and jest to deafen me to the cry in my 
heart, which was almost breaking all the while. Oh, Anna, 
he has ceased to love me now ! I know it, he has entirely 
ceased to love me ! ” 

I don’t feel so sure of that myself, Drusilla. If you 
were afraid to look at him, I was not. I saw him several 
times in the course of the evening; and whenever I saw 
him he was standing near you and following you with his 
eyes.” 

He was ? He was, Anna ? ” eagerly, breathlessly in- 
quired the young wife. 

Indeed he was.” 

You are sure ? ” 

Quite sure. I watched him.” 

Ah, but — perhaps he did so in hate or in anger,” said 
Drusilla, with a sigh. 

Anna was silent. 

Say ! was it not in anger or in hate, Anna ? ” 

“ I thought it was in jealousy, and that you know is a 
sign of love.” 

Oh, if I thought so ! if I thought so ! how quickly 
I would set all that jealousy at rest. How soon I would 
convince my Alick that I care for hut him in this whole 
world ! ” she exclaimed, fervently clasping- her hands. 

Indeed, Drusilla, I hope you would do nothing of the 
sort. He richly deserves to suffer.” 

Oh, Anna ! you don’t like Alick,” said Drusilla, 
reproachfully. 


264 


THE bride’s fate. 


Like him ? No, that I don’t ! That’s the gospel truth. 
But there is Dick, so good night, or rather good morning, 
my dear,” said Mrs. Hammond, kissing her cousin on the 
brow and then leaving the room. 

Oh, if I could believe as Anna suggests, how quickly, 
how gladly I would set all my Alick’s doubts at rest. But 
ah ! it is not so. He has ceased to love me. I am sure of 
it now — sure of it ! ” 

She struggled to keep back her tears, so as not to distress 
her child, who was still sitting on her lap and w^atching her 
countenance with eyes full of anxious sympathy. 

As soon as Anna had left her, Drusilla rang for Pina, 
and with her maid’s assistance changed her splendid even- 
ing dress for a cool white wrapper. Then, before lying 
down, she superintended little Lenny’s morning bath and 
toilet, and saw him eat his simple breakfast and sent him 
out with his nurse for a walk. 

Then at last she lay down to take an hour’s rest, if not 
sleep, before joining the family at the late breakfast. 

Meanwhile Anna hurried oif to her own room. Anna 
was weary and drowsy, and with no heavy cares on her 
mind, was only anxious to find her pillow and go to sleep. 
But to rest was not to be Anna’s good fortune that morn- 
ing. She found Dick just come home, looking so haggard 
and harassed that his aspect terrified her into the suspicion 
that her “unlucky dog” had been so unfortunate as to 
meet with some of his friends. 

“ Dick ! in the name of Heaven, what is the matter ? ” 
she exclaimed. 

“ Matter ? Nothing,” answered Mr. Hammond, telling 
unscrupulously, and almost unconsciously, the regulation 
lie in such cases made and provided. 

“ Dick ! when a man says there is nothing the matter, 
with such a look as that on his face, it is a sign there is so 
much the matter that he dare«5 t. s>t confess it Now. Dick, 


Alexander’s experience. 265 

I will know/’ she said, going to him, laying her hands upon 
his shoulders and gazing steadfastly into his face. 

^‘Well, Anna, what do you see<?” he inquired, a little 
sadly, as he met her eyes. 

“ I see that you are quite sober, at least, poor soul j hut 
oh, Dick! you unfortunate fellow, where have you been 
since we left you ! ” 

“ About town, Anna.” 

About town ! Oh, yes, exactly ! About town ! I 
know too well what that means. Oh, Dick ! Dick ! we 
ought never to bring you within sight of a town ! We 
ought to keep 3’’ou in the woods all the time. Now make a 
clean breast of it, Dick. Whom have you been with ? ” 

I happened to meet with an old friend down town,” 
answered Dick, solemnly and a little maliciously. 

An old friend down town ! Oh, precisely 1 I know 
what that means also ! Dick ! Dick I that proverb, ^ Save 
me from my friends,’ must have been written for you. 
Now out with it at once ! How much has 3^our friend, or 
set of friends, robbed you of this time ? ” 

“ Kobbed me of, Anna ? ” 

“Yes ! robbed you of I You know what I mean. How 
much have you lost ? A thousand pounds — ten thou- 
sand ? ” 

“ Anna, 3’ou think I have been gambling? ” 

“ What else can I think, Dick ? It breaks my heart to 
think it, though.” 

“ Anna, dearest,” said Dick, taking her hands from his 
shoulder and holding them in his own, while he sought her 
eyes, “ Anna, did I not promise you before we were mar- 
ried, that after I should become your husband I would 
never touch caids or dice again ? Answer me, Anna.” 

“ Yes, Dick you did, dear.” 

“ And — bad as I was, at my very worst, did you ever 
know me to break my pledged word ? ” 


266 


THE bride’s fate. 


No indeed, I never did, dear.’’ 

And do you think I would begin by breaking it to my 
wife? ” he asked, gazing sadly into her eyes. 

Oh, Dick, Dick, my darling, I beg 3^our pardon ! I do 
indeed ! ” she said, throwing her arms around him and kiss- 
ing him with such an effusion of affection that it must have 
consoled him for her momentary injustice. Oh, Dick, for- 
give me, love ! ” 

All right, Anna,” he said, smiling and returning her 
caresses with interest. “ I cannot blame you for doubting 
and fearing for me, until time shall prove how steadfastly I 
shall keep my pledge to you. I only wish it could be 
otherwise with you, and that for j^our own peace you could 
have full faith in me ; but I know that this cannot be so, 
for it must be a part of my punishment for past follies still 
to inspire doubt of my future conduct.” He spoke gravely 
and sadlj’^, and the tears rushed to Anna’s eyes as she 
answered him : 

Oh, Dick, darling, not so ! I never doubted you before, 
and, after this, I cannot do so again. It was I w'ho was a 
sinner, Dick, to doubt you at all, jmu dear, good, hon- 
est 

— “ Dog,” added Dick, laughing ; for even an unlucky 
dog may still be an honest one. Yes, Anna,” he added, 
after a pause, I do think you may begin to trust me. 
We have been married about two years, and in all that 
time not only have I never touched cards or dice, but I 
have not even wished to do so. For jmur own peace of 
mind, try to trust me, my wife.” 

“ I do, Dick ! I do ! It was only your look that alarmed 
me ; and, as we w^ere all safe at home here, I could not 
think of anything but your ‘ friends ’ that could happen to 
you. And, more than all, when I asked you what was the 
matter, you answered, ^ nothing,’ wFich, as I hinted before, 
always means, ^ Nothing could be worse.’ ” 


267 


Alexander’s experience. 

‘^Well, Anna, it really was ^nothing,’ in one sense of 
the word ; ^ nothing,’ or not much to us, that is.” 

What was it, then ? ” 

^^Well, I suppose I may tell you without the risk of 
giving you anj^ great pain. Alexander Lyon has gone mad 
with jealousy.” 

Anna at first looked started, and then she hurst into a 
hearty peal of laughter. 

“ I never saw a man out of Bedlam so frantic,” continued 
Dick. 

‘^1 said so!” laughed Anna. ^^Who is he jealous of? 
You?” 

Of the whole world, I think ! ” 

I am very glad to hear it. I hope it will do him 
good.” 

Yes, but he has challenged Prince Ernest of Hohen- 
linden,” said Dick, solemnly. 

Anna became very grave. 

And if he should not be prevented he will fight him.” 

Eight a duel ! Dick, do you know what you are say- 
ing ? Are you in 3mur senses ? ” 

‘‘ I am. It is Alick who is mad.” 

Eight a duel! What! in this age and in this coun- 
try?” 

Yes, in this age and in this country, my dear ! And I 
do not see, for m3" part, how it can be helped — I mean pre- 
vented — except by the police. I saw the whole thing, Anna. 
Just as your carriage drove off, Alick claps his hand upon 
the prince and charges him then and there with insulting a 
lady and stealing a bouquet. You should have seen Prince 
Ernest then. Talk about the Germans being phlegmatic ! 
Though Prince Ernest is an Austrian, by the way. Why, 
Anna, he jumped two feet from the ground at the first 
charge, and vaulted four feet into the air. at the second. If 
they are permitted to meet, he will eat Alick’s head.” 


268 


THE bride’s fate. 


A duel in England ! and at this time of the T^orld ! 

“But you must remember that it is not to he between 
Englishmen, but between an Austrian and an American 
and not, probably, in England ; but upon some of the little 
islands of the channel.’’ 

“ I thought duels had gone out about the time that rail- 
roads came in,” said Anna. 

“ So did I.” 

“ Didn’t you speak to Alick ? Didn’t you try to prevent 
the challenge 

“ Of course I did, but with what hope of success ? I 
might as well have preached to the winds as to Alexander ; 
and as to Prince Ernest, after the first words had passed, it 
would have been quite hopeless as well as very presumptu- 
ous to have tried to expostulate with him. I did not even 
attempt it. He had been outraged, grossly outraged, and 
was in a towering passion that even overtopped Alexander’s 
fury. And if Alick had not challenged the prince, the 
prince would have challenged him.’’ 

“ But the duel must be stopped ! ” 

“ Of course, if possible.” 

“ What can be done ? ” 

“ Our only hope is in the police. It was in this view of 
the case, and not in any prospect of a successful interview 
with Alick, that I jumped into a cab and tried to follow 
him and find out his address ; but he had a minute’s start 
of me, and so of course I lost him. I drove to Mivart’s; 
but he does not stop there, I was told. I went on specula- 
tion to several places where I hoped to hear of him ; but 
without success. Lastly, I did what I should have done at 
first — went to Scotland Yard and lodged information of the 
projected breach of the peace with the police. Then I 
came home. So you see, my dear, it was my anxious night 
race through the London streets that gave me the haggard 
look of a ruined gamester.” 


Alexander’s experience. 269 

** It was nice of you, Dick, to take so much trouble to 
save that good for nothing fellow. Shall you tell Drusa ? ” 
Of course not. You would not advise me to do so ? ” 

^^No ; for it would he useless as well as painful for her to 
know anything about it.” 

You will tell grand-pa ? ” 

“ Yes j as soon as he is up and has had his breakfast, I 
must consult with him as to what further can be done. 
Now, Anna, dear, you had better try to get a little sleep 
before breakfast ; as for me, I shall go and take a bath and 
get a cup of coffee, and be off to Scotland Yard again, and 
be back time enough to meet my uncle when he appears.” 

So saying, Dick rang for his valet and disappeared. 

But sleep was driven far from Anna for that day. She, 
too, found her best restorative in a bath, a change of dress, 
and a cup of strong coffee. Having drank this last, she 
went down into the drawing-room to wait for the other 
members of the family. 

But even there she could not be at rest, the news of this 
intended duel had excited her so much ; and not that she 
cared for her cousin Alexander, either, but that she cared 
for Drusilla ; and she was anxious for the return of Dick, to 
know whether the detective policemen had succeeded in trac- 
ing Alexander in time to stop his murderous and suicidal 
purpose. She walked from window to door, and from door to 
window, unable to sit still ; she took up a book, and laid it 
down ; tried her embroidery frame, and cast it aside, unable 
to read or work ; she opened her piano, but could not play. 
So she maundered about until the family circle began to 
gather. 

The first that appeared was little Lenny, in the arms of 
his nurse. He looked fresh, bright and gay from his morn- 
ing walk, and was full of chatter about a monkey and an 
organ grinder. 

Next came Drusilla, looking rather pale, but very pretty 


270 


THE bride’s fate. 


in her plainly banded dark hair and her cool wh.fce morn- 
ing dress. She greeted Anna, and then sat down and 
called her child to her knee, and began to ask him about 
his morning walks. And Lenny, having found his most 
interested hearer, chattered away faster than ever. 

The third comer was General Lyon, looking quite re- 
freshed after several hours of undisturbed repose. 

“ Good-morning, my dears. I hope I have not kept you 
waiting,’^ he said, as he saluted the two ladies. 

Oh, no, sir ; we are almost just assembled,” said Dru- 
silla. 

Then, my dear Anna, ring and order breakfast at once. 
But where is Dick ? At the nearest mews, giving his 
opinion of the proprietor’s latest purchase, I dare say.” 

Oh, no, sir. He is not there ; but he did not feel like 
sleeping, so he took a bath and dressed and went out tc 
take a walk. He told me he would be back in time for 
breakfast,” said Anna. . 

And you would have thought Anna was some young 
girl waiting a visit from her betrothed, to have seen her go 
from one window to another, and gaze out up and down the 
street,” said Drusilla. 

Anna, you do look a little nervous and excited ; wha4 
is the matter ? ” anxiously inquired the general, for he, too, 
feared that the ‘ unlucky dog ’ might again have brokeu 
bounds and given her trouble. What is it, Anna ? ” 

It is loss of rest, grand-pa. I could not sleep, so I did 
not even lie down. These late hours are a terrible tax on a 
country-bred woman like myself,” replied Anna, evasively, 

“ To every body, Anna. I must really put my veto upon 
parties for every night. For once a week now I would con- 
sent to them But here is Dick at last ! — Why the 

deuce don’t that fellow serve breakfast ! Did you ring, 
Anna?” 

^^Yes, sir; and I hear the jingling of cups on a tray, and 


Alexander’s experience. 271 


BO I suppose he is coming,” said Anna, answering her 
grand-pa, but looking anxiously at her husband as he en- 
tered the room. 

Dick saw that troubled gaze, and smiled to reassure her. 
Then, after greeting the general and Drusilla, he turned to 
Anna and said, metaphorically, but in a way that she un- 
derstood : 

“ I think I can get that florse I went after, Anna.” 

“ Theo-e ! I knew he had been to a stable, and Anna said 
he hadn’t,” laughed whe general. 

“ I did not know that he had gone to one, grand-pa.” 

“ Of course you did not, my child, or you wouldn’t have 
spoken so. But you see, I knew him better even than you 
did. And now let us have breakfast.” 

As soon as the morning meal was over, Drusilla took 
little Lenny and retired to her own room. This was not 
her custom in the forenoon j but on this occasion she acted 
with a purpose. She had not failed to see that both Anna 
and Dick were seriously disturbed, and that they wished to 
be alone with the head of the family ; but she had not in 
her thoughts connected their disturbance in any manner 
with her own husband. On the contrary, she too unjustly 
suspected poor Dick of having in some manner fallen from 
grace — of having, perhaps, been tempted to a gambling 
table and lost more money than he could just then conven- 
iently pay, and of being forced to apply to the general. So 
hard, you see, it is for a young man who has once lost the 
confidence of his friends, to recover it, even from those who 
love him best. So never suspecting that Alexander was on 
the verge of crime and death, but sighing over the supposed 
danger of poor Dick, Drusilla sat down with little Lenny 
in her own chamber. 

As soon as the breakfast parlor was left 

alone. General Lyon rang for the waiter to take away the 
breakfast service, and wdien that was done, he turned to his 


272 THE bride’s fate. 

young people and said, somewhat sternly, for he still sus- 
pected Dick : 

“ Now, then, what is it ? Speak out. Let us hear the 
worst, and hear it at once, for Heaven’s sake.” 

You should have heard it at once, but we could not say 
anything ahput it before Drusilla,” said Dick. 

“ I suppose not. But she is gone now, so why do you 
hesitate ? What is the matter ? ” 

‘‘ Sir, it is this : Alexander Lyon has challenged Prince 
Ernest of Hphenlinden.” 

Good Lord ! is the man mad ? ” exclaimed the general. 

Of course he is. Every man is mad who challenges 
another to mortal combat.” 

“ Great Heaven ! what is to be done ? How did you 
know this, Dick?” demanded the general, starting up and 
beginning to walk the floor with rapid strides, as was his 
custom when greatly excited. How do you know this, 
Dick, I ask?” 

Mr. Hammond related the discovery he had made on the 
morning after the ball. 

‘‘ But, good Heaven ! this purpose cannot he carried out 
in a Christian and civilized country. I do not think that 
at this day of the world any two Englishmen would ever 
think of such a barbarism as fighting a duel, ami you may 
depend that no two foreigners are going to be allowed to 
do it. Duel indeed ! Chivalry is dead, and law reigns in 
its stead. Dick, you and I must go before some magistrate 
and give the information. We must go at once. Pll put 
on my boots ; you call a cab,” said the general, excitedly. 

“ Sir, I went immediately and laid the information before 
the Chief of Police at Scotland Yard. He promised to 
take prompt steps to arrest the challenger and prevent the 
hostile meeting. An hour ago I went again to the office, 
ari learned that two detectives had been sent in pursuit 
of the parties. They had not yet returned to report at the 
office.” 


Alexander’s experience. 273 


And that is all you know ? 

Yes, sir.” 

Then we must go all the same. I cannot rest quietly 
here while my dead brother’s son is in peril, even if he is a 
fool and a madman ! — Jake ! ” he called to liis passing ser- 
vant, “ bring my boots to my room, and then run and call 
a cab. And, my dear Anna,” he said, turning to his 
grand-daughter, put a guard upon your face as well as 
upon your lips, in Drusilla’s presence. She must not kpow 
what has occurred.” 

I fear she already suspects something wrong,” answered 
Anna. 

“ Oh, she probably thinks as you did, Anna — that I have 
got into a scrape. I saw how pitifully s-he regarded me as 
she left the room. She thinks I have fallen among thieves 
again. Well', let her continue to think so ; better that than 
she should suspect the truth,” suggested Dick. 

Indeed she shall not harbor a doubt of you, Dick, darl- 
ing, even to save her from the pain of knowing the truth. 
But never fear ; trust to me to spare her feelings without 
compromising your character.” 

In a very few minutes the general came in booted and 
gloved for his drive. Dick was quite ready and the cab 
was announced to be waiting. And so with a few last 
words of warning and encouragement to Anna, they left 
her to go upon their anxious errand. 

When they arrived at the office of the chief they 
received information that the two detectives who had been 
sent in pursuit of the would-be duellists had returned and 
reported. 

And this was the substance of their report : 

That Prince Ernest of Hohenlinden, with two gentle- 
men of bis suite — being his physician in ordinary and his 
second ; and that Lord Killcrichtoun, with two attendants, 
17 


274 


THE bride’s fate. 


his second and his servant, had left London by the eight 
o’clock train for Southampton. 

And what the mischief have they done that for ? ” 
inquired General Lyon, in perplexity. 

“Their intention seems clear enough, I think. They 
mean to cross over to some one of the Channel Islands, 
where they think they may blow each other’s brains out 
comfortably without interruption,” answered the chief. 

“ And now what the deuce is to be done ? They left at 
eight, you say ? It is twelve now, and there is a train just 
starting, if I remember rightly ; and it is too late to pur- 
sue them by this train ; and there will not be another start 
until three o’clock, I think ? At least such is my impres- 
sion of the hours of the trains to Southampton, from look- 
ing over the time-table with young Spencer yesterday, 
before he went down to meet a friend who had come by the 
American steamer,” said the general. 

“ Yes, you are quite right about the trains j and right 
also about the uselessness of attempting to pursue these 
madmen by rail. But I have telegraphed the police there 
to be on the lookout for them.” 

“ And we can do nothing in the meantime ? ” 

“ hTothing but wait patiently.” 

“C^n we .wait here?” inquired the general. 

“ Certainly, if you can make yourselves comfortable, 
though it is not a pleasant place to ask you to sit down 
in.” 

“ Thank you. We shall gladly avail ourselves of your 
kind permission. You see we are so very anxious on this 
subject, that we should like to be at hand when you receive 
an answer to your telegram. How long do you think it 
will be before you get it ? ” 

“Can’t say. If they received mine before the eight 
o’clock train from London reaches Southampton, they might 
have met the parties at the station and could have answered 


Alexander’s experience. 275 


me immediately. If, however, the train reached there first, 
of course the parties might have got out and got off, and 
the officers would in that case have some trouble to look 
them up.’’ 

** So then you may get a telegram any moment now, or 
you may have to wait several houjs,” said Dick. 

Exactly,” replied the chief. 

“ Then, uncle,” said Dick, perceiving that their presence 
in the office really annoyed or, at least, incommoded the 
civil officer, I think we will adjourn to the White Swan, 
which is only a few steps from this, and wait there until 
Mr. Harding receives his telegram, when perhaps he will 
be kind enough to send us word of the news.” 

*^Yes, certainly, if you prefer that arrangement, though 
you are quite welcome to remain here, if you can make 
yourselves comfortable where there are so many coming and 
going.” 

1 thank you, but we will go to the White-Swan,” said 
the general, rising. 

But just then the clicking of the telegraph-wire in the 
adjoining office was heard, and the chief raised his hands, 
saying : 

Be kind enough to stop. That may be the answer we 
expect now.” 

The general and Dick sat down and waited. A few 
minutes passed, and then a man entered from the telegraph- 
office, and handed the chief a folded paper. 

« Yes ; here it is ! ” said Mr. Harding, opening and read- 
ing: 

The parties reached here at ten clock and took the 
steamer for Guernsey at a quarter after. We wait orders.” 

There you see, sir, it is as I feared! They got off 
before my telegram could have reached Southampton- 
before, in point of fact, it had been dispatched from London. 
And it is as I suspected— they are going to one of the 


276 


THE bride’s fate. 


Channel Islands to kill each other at their leisure,” said 
the chief. 

And now what the deuce is to be done ? Can’t they 
still be followed and stopped ? ” 

“ I fear not until they have accomplished their purpose. 
There is no other boat lea\ es for Guernsey until to-morrow.” 

No other packet ? But, good Heavens, can we not 
hire a yacht and go in pursuit of them ? We can run 
down to Southampton by the next train, and, in so large a 
port as that, we could be sure of being able to charter a 
vessel for the trip.” 

I fear, sir, I should not be justified in taking the respon- 
sibility of incurring so great an expense,” said the chief, 
slowly. 

“ Oh, never mind the expense, man — I will take that 
upon myself ! I would not grudge a thousand pounds to 
save my mad nephew from this meditated crime and folly. 
I will make you quite safe in regard to the expense, only I 
should wish you to send a sufiicient police-force with me to 
stop the duel by force if it cannot be done by persuasion. 
Come ! it is only half-past twelve o’clock now, and the train 
for Southampton don’t start until three. You have two 
hours and a half to make up your mind and make all the 
necessary arrangements. Conie, what do you saj'- ? ” 

“ Oh, of course the thing can be done, sir, if you choose 
to incur the heavy expense of hiring the vessel. You can 
take two of our men with you, and procure two more at 
Southampton.” 

^^All right! Now we must go back to our hotel to pre- 
pare for our journey. There is the address. Now how 
soon will you send the men up to us ? ” 

In an hour, sir, or at least in good time for you to reach 
the train ; or they can join you at the station.” 

“ I would rather they would come up within an hour at 
farthest to our hotel, ft>r then I should feel surer of them j 


Alexander’s experience. 277 

and if they do not report at the time specified, of course I 
should wait for them until we get to the station, and then 
miss them there, we should have to go down to Southamp 
ton without them. Send them to our hotel, if possible, and 
as soon as may be, if you please, Mr. Harding.” 

“ I will do so, general,” answered the chief. 

And the general and Mr. Hammond left the police-office 
and returned to the Morley House. 

Here a difficulty met them — how to account to Drusilla 
for their sudden journey without alarming her. Neither the 
general nor Dick had ingenuity enough to invent a means 
of satisfying her mind without telling her an untruth. 

“We must leave it to Anna’s wit,” said Dick, as they 
entered the house. And the general assented. 

On entering the drawing-room, they found no one there, 
except Master Lenny, attended by his nurse. 

“ Where are the ladies ? ” inquired the general. 

“ They are both in their rooms fast asleep, sir,” answered 
Pina. 

“ Then go and wate up Mrs. Hammond, and ask her to 
come to us quickly here. And don’t, upon any account, 
disturb Mrs. Lyon,” said the general. 

Pina left the room, with little Lenny lagging after her. 

It is very fortunate the two ladies are asleep, for now we 
can get Anna here, and talk to her alone ; tell her all that 
we have learned, and warn her how to deal with Drusilla,” 
said the general. 

Pina soon returned, with Mrs. Hammond, who in her 
great anxiety to hear the news came into the drawing-room 
just as she had risen from her bed, with her white dressing- 
gown wrapped around her, and her fair hair flowing over 
her shoulders. 

“ And now ? — And now ? — What ? ” she eagerly, breath- 
lessly demanded. 

Pina, my good girl, take little Lenny down to the 


278 


THE bride’s fate. 


walk,” said the general. And when the nurse had taken 
the child from the room, he turned to Anna, and said : 

We know all that can he known now, my love.” 

“ Good Heavens ! they have not met, with any fatal 
result ? ” she gasped. 

“No, don’t be alarmed! They have not met! hut 
they have gone off to one of the Channel islands, to 
carry out their intentions. And Dick and myself are 
going to follow them with a police sufficient to stop the 
duel by force, if we cannot do it by persuasion.” 

“ When do you leave ? ” 

“By the three o’clock train. It is one now, and we 
should leave the house a little after two ; we have not much 
more than an hour to prepare ; so, my dear, I wish you 
would just order us up a lunch, and then go and see to hav- 
ing a change of under-clothing and a few pocket-handker* 
chiefs put up for Dick and myself.” 

“ Yes ; — hut now — Drusilla ? She is asleep. Of course, 
you would not wish her disturbed?” said Anna, pausing 
at the door. 

“ By no means ! Bor every reason, let her sleep until we 
are off. We must go without bidding her good-bye. And 
we must trust to you, Anna, to make our apologies to her, 
and also to explain our absence, without telling the cause of 
our journey.” 

“ A most difficult task, my dear grand-pa ; but I will un- 
dertake it,” said Anna, as she left the room. 

The general and his nephew also went to their chambers 
to put themselves in what Dick called travelling rig. 
When they returned to the drawing room they found their 
lunch on the table, and their two portmanteaus on the floor, 
and Anna presiding over these preparations. 

“ Half-past one o’clock ! We hare scarcely an hour now 
to get our lunch and reach the train in time. Sit down at 
once, Dick,” said the general, placing himself at the table. 

Dick and Anna followed his example. 


Alexander’s experience. 279 

Where is little Lenny ? I would like him to take lunch 
with us this last time before we go. Where is he, Anna, 
my dear ? inquired the general. 

Dear grand-pa, don’t you know you sent him out to 
walk with Pina ? ” 

Oh ! yes ! so I did ! That was to get rid of the girl 
while I talked with you,” said the general, in a low tone, 
then raising his voice, he called to Jacob, who stood waiting 
at some little distance, and said : 

Here, you Jake ! Go out upon the sidewalk, or around 
the square, and see if you can find Master Lenny and his 
nurse ; and if you can, then tell Pina to bring him home 
immediately, I wish to see him before I leave.” 

Yes, sir. I’ll find them. I saw them on the corner 
watching of a Punch and Judy, not half an hour ago,” said 
the boy, bowing and leaving the room. . 

I do want to see the little fellow, and kiss him good- 
bye before we go,” said the general, apologetically, as he 
poured for himself a glass of sherry. 

La, grand-pa, you talk as if you were going to the anti- 
podes,” laughed Mrs. Hammond. 

“ I dare say I talk like an old fool, Anna, but I am very 
foolishly fond of that little fellow.” 

^‘Oh, grand-pa, I did not mean to say anything of the 
kind, and I beg your pardon.” 

“ Tut, tut, I knew you didn’t. Come, Dick, have you 
got through ?” 

Very nearly. There is time enough, sir.” 

I wouldn’t miss the train for a thousand pounds. And, 
bless my soul, those men from Scotland Yard have not 
reported yet. I do hope they will be punctual,” said 
the general, impatiently. 

At that moment the waiter appeared, and announced 
two persons below inquiring for General Lyon or Mr* 
Hammond. 


iJ80 THE bride’s fate. 

<< Our men at last,” said Dick, tell them to waiz for 
ns in the hall.” 

The waiter went out to take the message. 

And the General and Dick completed their last prepara- 
tions. 

And that child hasnT come yet ! ” exclaimed the gen- 
eral, very impatiently. 

Time enough, uncle — the cab hasn’t come yet,” said 
Dick. 

But at that instant the waiter once more appeared and 
announced the cab. 

“ Let us go,” said Dick. 

“ Not yet ; we can wait five minutes for little Lenny. 
Waiter, will you oblige me by going out upon the sidewalk 
and looking for my servants, and if you find them tell them 
to come in immediately with Master Leonard. I want to 
see him before I leave town.” 

Certainly, sir,” said the man, hurrying from the room. 

And General Lyon sat down to wait impatiently, while 
Dick and Anna stood withdrawn into the bay window, 
making their adieux. 

Indeed, dear Anna,” said Dick, “ I would rather you 
should let Drusilla think it is some scrape of mine that has 
carried us off from London then that you should permit her 
to suspect the truth. It will not matter to let her deceive 
herself for a few hours or days, until the suspense and 
danger shall be over.” 

“ I will do the best I can ; but, oh, Dick ! do you think 
that you can possibly be in time ? in time to prevent a 
fatal meeting ? ” she anxiously inquired. 

‘‘We must try to do so ; we must do our utmost and trust 
the event to Providence.” 

“ Dick,” said the general, impatiently interrupting them, 
“our five minutes are up, and neither little Lenny, our 
■ervants, or the waiter has returned. Pray, Dick, oblige 


Alexander’s experience. 281 


me by going out for a few minutes to see if they are com- 
ing. I hate to trouble you, my boy, but I must kiss little 
Lenny before we go.’’ 

Oh, I will look for him with pleasure, sir. I dare say 
he and his whole suite of attendants are gathered around 
some organ grinder, monkey, or dancing dog, and can’t 
tear themselves away from the attraction,” laughed Dick, as 
he hurriedly left the room. 

Again the general sat down to wait, but being very 
restless and impatient, again started up and walked the 
floor with rapid strides for three or four minutes. 

Another five minutes gone 1 ” he presently exclaimed— • 
another five minutes gone, and none of them returned' 
yet ; and now I have not a second more of time left. 1 
will go down and look after them myself.” 

And so saying, he picked up his hat and rushed down 
stairs and out of the street door. 

He met Dick, the waiter and Jacob, hurrying towards 
the house. 

Well ! well! Where is little Lenny?” he quickly 
demanded. 

We can not find him or his nurse anywhere,” said the 
waiter. 

saw them with the Punch and Judy half an hour ago. 
I reckon as they followed of ’em to some distant street,” 
said Jacob. 

I do not think there is the slightest reason to be 
alarmed. Pina is quite capable of taking care of the child,” 
remarked Dick. 

Oh, I am not in the least alarmed about little Lenny ; 
I was only anxious to bid the little fellow good-bye before 
leaving town ; but, if I can not do so, I must be content. 
Well, Dick, my boy, we must really now be off. We will 
run up and bid Anna good-bye and go,” said the general. 
But Anna saved them the trouble. She came down 


282 


THE BEIDe’s fate. 


stairs, followed by a porter bringing the travellers’ port- 
manteaus, which were placed in the cab. The policemen 
were in waiting. 

General Lyon and Dick kissed and blessed Anna, and 
commended Drusilla and little Lenny to her care ; and then 
entered their cab, followed by their attendants, and their 
whole party set out for the railroad station. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE MISSING BOY. 

Go, when the hunter’s hand hath wrung 
From forest caves her shrieking young, 

Aud calm tne lonely lioness ; 

But soothe not, mock not, my distress. — Bteon. 

Anna returned to the drawing-room to face the difficulty 
of her duty to keep Drusilla ignorant of the real cause of 
General Lyon’s and Richard Hammond’s journey to South- 
ampton, and to do this without either telling or acting a 
falsehood. She wished to put off the evil hour as long as 
possible, so as to have time to perfect her plan of action, 
and therefore she kept away from Drusilla’s chamber and 
remained in the drawing-room. 

Drusilla’s sleep was long and unbroken. It was four 
o’clock in the afternoon before she joined Anna. She— 
Drusilla — looked refreshed and blooming. 

You have had a good nap,” said Anna. 

“ Yes,” said Drusilla, smiling, as she sat down, but look- 
ing all around as if in search of some one. 

You are looking for grand-pa and Dick? ” said Anna. 

“Yes, and for little Lenny and Pina,” answered Dru- 
lilla. 

“ Oh, little Lenny is out with his nurse,” said Anna, 


THE MISSING BOY. 


283 


willingly answering the easiest part of the observation 
first. 

“ And uncle and Dick are sleeping off their last night^s 
fatigue, I suppose.’’ 

“ No, poor souls ! they are incurring more fatigue,” said 
Anna, smiling, and trying to give a light and playful turn 
to the conversation. 

Why, where are they gone ? ” exclaimed Drusilla, rais- 
ing her brows in surprise. 

On a nice little jaunt to Southampton.” 

' To Southampton ? What is the occasion ? 

Well, you see, one of Dick’s good-for-nothing ‘friends,’ 
or rather, to speak the exact truth, one of his former good- 
for-nothing ‘friends’ has been getting himself into trouble. 
Of course poor Dick must needs take pity on him, and so 
my poor fellow and my grandfather have both gone down 
^ to Southampton to get him — Dick’s old friend — out of it.” 

“Ah! and that was the matter with Dick and uncle 
this morning at breakfast ? ” 

“ Yes. Dick had the subject on his mind, and wished to 
break it to grand-pa, and grand-pa saw that he had some- 
thing to say to him, and was both longing and dreading to 
hear it ; for, to tell the truth, I suppose he was fearing that 
Dick himself had got into a mess of some sort, and I dare 
say you were thinking the same thing, Drusilla.” 

“ Well, perhaps I was ; for our affections make us fear- 
ful for those we love, Anna ; and you and Dick are just as 
dear to me as the dearest brother and sister could possibly 
be.” 

“ Well, darling, I know that, and your love is not lost on 
ns, you may be sure. Be at ease on our behalf, as it was 
not Dick but one of his old friends that got into a scrape.” 

“ I am both glad and sorry. I am glad it was not Dick, 
and sorry that I did him the wrong to think it could have 
been. But — who was it, then, Anna, if I may ask ? ” 


284 


THE bride’s fate. 


‘‘Ah! iK)W, my dear, that would he telling. I assure 
you Dick would not have told grand-pa if he could have got 
along without his assistance ; and he would not even have 
told me, his wife, if he could have helped it. I am sure he 
would not like to tell any one else. Now you are not 
offended?” 

“ Offended ? Oh dear, no — certainly not, Anna. Of 
course I see such delicate difficulties as I suppose this of 
Dick’s friend to he, should he kept secret from all except 

those immediately concerned in settling them 1 wonder 

why that girl doesn’t bring little Lenny in ? ” said Drusilla, 
suddenly changing the subject, and going to the window to 
look out. 

“Yes, it is time she did, indeed. I dare say she will be 
here with him in a few minutes,” answered Anna, very 
glad to have weathered the storm she had so much dreaded. 

“ Anna, dear, what time did Pina take little Lenny 
out ? ” inquired Drusilla, rather uneasily. 

“ Immediately before luncheon.” 

“ What time was that to-day ? ” 

“ About two o’clock.” 

“And now it is after four; and she has had him out 
more than two hours, in the hottest part of the day, too. 
What could have tempted her to take the child out at this 
time of the day ? ” 

“ Drusa, dear, this was the way of it : Grand-pa and Dick 
wished to explain to me the necessity of their immediate 
departure for Southampton. Little Lenny and his nurse 
were in the room. Grand-pa and Dick did not want any 
other listener than myself, so they told Pina to take the 
child down to the sidewalk, thinking, of course, that so 
careful a nurse would keep him in the shade. So you see 
the girl was not to blame for taking the child out ; though 
certainly 1 think she is for keeping him out so long. But 
still I don’t think you need be uneasy, Drusa. Pina is no 


THE MISSING BOY. 


285 


strange nurse. You have known her well for three years, 
and she has had the care of your child for two, and has 
always proved herself worthy of the trust. I hope you are 
not uneasy about him ? 

“ Oh, no ! That is, I know I have no reason to be so^ 
for Pina takes as great care of him as I could myself, only 
I think mothers are always uneasy when their infants are 
out of sight. I wish she would return.” 

“ Oh, she will be back in a few minutes,” said Anna, 
cheerfully. 

‘‘ Listen ! there is some one coming up,” said Drusilla. 

Steps and voices were indeed heard near the room, and 
almost immediately there was a knock at the door. 

Come in,” said Anna. 

The door was opened by a waiter, who put in his head 
and said : 

“ If you please, my ladies, here is a policeman brought 
home jmur nurse-maid almost in fits.” 

Lenny ! where is Lenny ? Has anything happened to 
him ? Have you brought home my child ? ” cried Dru- 
fiilla, starting up and rushing to the door before Anna 
could even answer. 

My child ! my child ! where is my child ? ” she cried, 
clasping her hands in an agony of terror. 

“ My lady, from the girl’s ravings I’m afeard she has — 
well, not to make it any worse than what it is — mislaid the 
child some’rs or other,” said the policeman, coming forward 
half helping and half dragging Pina, who, as soon as she 
saw her mistress, sank with a gasp of mute anguish at her 
feet. 

“ Lenny ! Lenny lost ! Oh, Father ! Oh, Heavenly 
Father, have mercy ! ” cried Drusilla, reeling back into the 
arms of Anna, who sprang forward to support her. 

The chdd missing ! What do you mean? It cannot 
be I Pina, where is little Lenny ? ” demanded Anna, 


286 


THE bride’s fate. 


scarcely able to control ber own terror and distress, even 
while she sustained the agonized mother. Answer me, 
Pina, I say ! Where is little Lenny ? ” 

But Pina was past answering, past everything but grov- 
elling at their feet and howling and tearing her hair. 

Has the girl gone suddenly mad and so lost the child ? 
Policeman, where and under what circumstances did you 
find her ? Waiter, bring forward that easy chair.’’ 

The chair was rolled forward and Drusilla was eased into 
it, where she sat pale, mute, every sense on the qui vive to 
hear the policeman’s story. Terrified, agonized, yet with a 
mighty effort holding herself still and calm, the bereaved 
young mother sat and listened to the policeman’s account 
of his meeting with the nurse, after the loss of the child. 

If you please, my ladies, I first saw her in the Strand, 
tearing up and down the street, running after babies and 
nurses and bursting into shops and houses, and going on 
generally like one raving, distracted, with a rabble of boys 
at her heels hooting and jeering. So she being complained 
of by certain parties as she annoyed, and I, suspecting of 
her to be a mad woman broke loose from Bedlam, or least- 
ways making a great disturbance in the streets, I takes her 
into custody, and should have took her off to the station- 
house and locked her up, only she l>egan to howl about the 
child she had lost, and I began to see what had happened 
to her and how it was; and I asked her where she lived, 
and she told me and I brought her here ; and that is all 
about it, my ladies ; but if you can get more out of her 
nor I could, I think it would be well you should, and then 
maybe we could help you to get the child, my lady,” said 
officer E, 48. 

Oh, missus ! missus ! kill me ! kill me ! it would be a 
mercy ! ” cried Pina, wringing her hands. 

think it would be justice, at least,” answered Ann% 
sternly. 


THE MISSING BOY. 


287 


Where did you lose sight of him, Pina ? ” inquired 
the young mother, in a strangely quiet manner. 

^‘Oh, missus! oh, missus! knock me in the head and 
put me out of my misery ! do ! do ! do ! cried Pina, 
gnashing her teeth and tearing her hair, rolling on the 
f oor and giving way to all her excess of grief and despair, 
with all the utter abandonment of her race. 

Pina ! sternly exclaimed Anna Hammond, “ unless 
you are coherent and tell us where you lost Lenny, we 
shall not know where to look for him. Speak at once I 
where was it that you first missed him 

Oh, ma’am ! Oh, Miss. Anna ! Strike me dead for 
pity ! Oh, do ! oh, do ! ” cried the girl, growing wilder 
every moment. 

Yes, ma’am, that was about all I could get out of her 
either. Begging and a praying of me to take her up and 
hang her because she had lost the boy. To hang her, to 
hang her, to hang her up by the neck until she w'as dead, 
dead, dead, was all her prayer.” 

“Waiter,” said Drusilla, who, though agonized with 
grief and fear for her lost child, was now the most self-con- 
trolled and thoughtful of the party — “ waiter, go quickly 
and fetch a glass of wine to this girl. It may restore her 
faculties.” 

The man sprang to do the lady’s bidding, and soon 
returned with a bottle of sherry and a glass. 

Drusilla herself filled the glass, and kneeling down 
beside her, put it to the lips of the prostrate girl. 

“ Ho, no, no ! ” cried Pina, pushing away the glass, and 
spilling its contents — “no, no, no, I wmn’t take it, I won’t 
get better, I won’t live ! Somebody ought to smash me for 
losing little Lenny, and if they don’t I’ll die myself! I 
will ! I will ! ” 

“ Pina ! nobody blames you, at least I do not. Nobody 
wants you to die, or to be punished. Drink this, Pina, so 


288 


THE bride’s fate. 


you may be better able to tell me about my child,” said 
Drusilla, genily, as she again offered wine to the girl. 

Oh, missus ! Oh, missus ! if it was poison I would 
take it cheerful, I would ! for it do break my heart to look 
in your face and to think what I done ! ” 

“ You did nothing wicked, I'm sure. If you feel so 
much for me, drink this, for my sake, so that you may be 
better able to tell me about my child.” 

ni do anything for your sake, missus ! goodness knows 
I will ! ” said Pina, as she swallowed the wdne. 

Give her another glass, mum. She’ll hardly feel that 
in her condition,” advised the experienced policeman. 

Drusilla hesitated. But Anna, less scrupulous, took tho 
bottle and glass from her hand, filled the glass again and 
put it to Pina’s lips with a peremptory : 

Drink this at once.” 

‘‘ Must I, missus ? ” asked Pina, turning to her mis- 
tress. 

“Yes,” answered Drusilla. 

And Pina swallowed the second portion of wine. 

“How,” said the policeman, after a few moments, 
extending his hand to Pina, lifting her up and placing her 
upon a chair — '‘now, my good girl, open your mouth and 
tell us all, hpw and about the loss of the child.” 

“ Oh,” cried Pina, bursting into tears afresh, “ it was Aim 
at the bottom of it all, I know it was ! ” 

“ Who ? ” inquired E. 48. 

“ Him, Mr. Alexander, Mr, Lyon, Lord Killchristians, as 
they call him over here. Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! Oh, me ! 
Oh, little Lenny ! ” 

“ His father ! ” exclaimed Drusilla, in a half suppressed 
tone. And she breathed somewhat more freely ; for she 
felt that if Lenny w^ere with his father, the child was in 
no immediate personal danger — nay more, that his deten- 
tion was but temporary j that he would soon be restored to 


THE MISSING BOY. 


289 


her again. She thought that her husband might have 
ceased to love her, but she knew that he never would 
deliberately do the deadly wrong of tearing her child from 
her. Still she was intensely anxious to hear the details of 
the abduction ; but she was also extremely unwilling to 
admit strangers to a participation of the intelligence that 
involved so much of her private history and domestic sor- 
rows. 

All these thoughts and feelings passed rapidly through 
her mind, while Pina was giving her answer, so when the 
policeman would have continued the examination by ask- 
ing : 

Who was at the bottom of it, did you say, j^oung 
woman ? did you say a gentleman and — a lord ? How was 
that ? And what lord was it ? 

“ Lord Killchristians ! Mr. Alexander Lyon as used to 
was, and a notorious willyun too ! and the child’s 
own ” 

Here Driisilla broke into the conversation : 

Officer, these are private matters. I thank you very 
much for having brought this poor girl safely home, and I 
hope you will accept this trifle in payment,” she added, 
placing a sovereign in his hand. You may leave us now. 
We will examine this girl, and if we find that your services 
should be required in the search, we will send for you ; or 
you can call here in the course of an hour.” 

Thank you, my lady. I will call and see if I am 
wanted at the time you say,” answered the policeman, 
lifting his hand to his head by way of salute, and then 
leaving the room, followed by the waiter. 

“Now then, Pina, you say that little Lenny’s father has 
got him ? ” said Drusilla, trembling with excess of emotion, 
yet still striving to keep calm. 

“Yes, ma’am, T suppose he has by this time,” sobbed the 
girl. 


18 


290 


THE bride’s fate. 


“ You suppose he has by this time ? Pina, Pina ! that 
is not what you said before. Pina, what do you mean ? 
You surely said his father had him ! ” 

I said Mr. Lyon was at the bottom of it, ma’am— at 
the bottom of little Lenny’s being carried off, I mean — and 
I stand to it, as he was ! ” 

“ Oh, Heaven ! did not his father carry him oif, then ? ” 

^^No, ma’am ; not with his own hands, but he w^as at the 
bottom of it — I say it, and I stand to it ! ” 

“ Merciful Heaven ! if his father did not carry him olF 
who then did ? Girl, girl ! do you know how you torture 
me ? I thought at first my Lenny had been lost by stray- 
ing away from you ; then you said his father was concerned 
in his disappearance ; now you say his father did not take 
him ! In the name of Mercy, who did ? Speak — for the 
Lord’s sake, speak quickly ? ” 

^‘Oh, ma’am, I will — •! will tell you all I know, but 
don’t, don’t look so — don’t, ma’am, or you’ll kill me ! ” 
sobbed Pina. 

Tell who took the child, then ! ” said Anna, 
speaking sternly and stamping her foot.' 

I don’t know who did ! ’’ burst, amid sobs, from 
Pina’s lips. 

Drusilla stifled the shrieks that were ready to burst from 
her lips. 

“i^You don’t know who did ! Why, then, did you accuse 
Lord Killcrichtoun ? ” demanded Anna. 

“ I didn’t accuse him, ma’am — I said as he was at the 
bottom of it,” said Pina, who seemed to be unable to 
change her phraseology. I said he was at the bottom of 
it — and I stand to it as he was ! ” 

Oh, Anna, Anna, time flies ! If Lenny is not with 
Alick, where is he ? Oh, where is he ? He must be found 
at once — at once ! I cannot live or breathe till he is found ! 
She must be made to tell how she lost him ! ” cried Drusilla, 


THE MISSING BOY. 


291 


losing all her self-command and starting up in great ex- 
citement, — “ He must he sought for, Anna ! he must he 
sought for at once ! ” 

^‘Of course he must; hut the search must he commenced 
with this girl who was the last person with him. Pina, 
you say 3mu don’t know who took the child from you ? ” 
^^No, ma’am, I don’t — hut know his father was at the 
bottom of it — I know it, and I’ll stand to it ! ” 

Why do 3mu think so ? ” 

Oh, Anna, Anna, you lose time with all this talk ! ” 

Ho, I don’t ; w^e must find out from her where and 
how we are to begin to search. How, Pina, why do you 
think Lord Killcrichtoun was concerned in this matter? ” 
'^Lor’, ma’am, because it stands to reason as he was. 
Lenny is his own son, which also they are very fond of each 
other — Lenny of he, and him of Lenny ! And so it was 
nateral he should want to have him. I’m not saying as it 
was right or anything like right, hut it was so ! ” 

Oh, Anna, Anna, time flying, and no facts learned yet 
—only conjectures ! Let me talk to her myself. Pina, 
where were you when you missed little Lenny ? ” inquired 
Drusilla, distractedly. 

“ Oh, ma’am ! oh, missus, don’t take on so — don’t, and I 
will tell you ! He was down on the Strand, a-looking in at 
a toy-shop — oh, dear ! oh, me ! oh, poor little Lenny ! ” 

“ Oh, for the Lord’s sake, stop crying, and tell me more ! 
You were before a toy-shop you say?” said Drusilla, in 
extreme anxiety. 

“ Yes, ma’am, a-looking in at the windows, at the wooden 
soldiers, and horses, and ships ; and there comes along a 
man with an organ and a dancing-monkey. And little 
Lenny turned away from the wdndow to look at the mon- 
key. And a crowd collected. They was mostly children. 
And little Lenny is fond of children — and so — oh ! oh, 
dear ! oh, my heart will break ! ” 


292 


THE bride’s fate. 


Compose yourself, and go on, Pina ! ’’ said Anna. 

^^Yes, ma’am. Oh ! oh, dear! Yes — well, little Lenny 
wanted to mix up with them ; but they were mostly ragged 
and dirty street children, and I was afeard of fevers, and 
fleas, and sich, and so I kept him to myself, so I did. Oh ! 
oh, me ! I wish I had always kept him to myself, so I do,’^ 
Bobbed Pina. 

‘‘ Go on,” said Anna. 

And I saw two ill-looking men in the crowd. And in- 
deed I didn’t think nothing of it at the time, because ill- 
looking men ain’t no rarity in no city, and that I knew of 
my own self. And these men, most of their ill-looks was 
in their dirty and ragged clothes, and bruised and fiery 
faces. And while I was a-taking notice of them on the 
sly, one of ’em says to the other ; 

‘ There — that’s the young ’un.’ 

And the other says : 

Which?’ 

“ And the first one stoops and whispers to the other, so I 
couldn’t hear. And then they fell back out of the crowd 
a little waj^'s, and began to look into the shop windows un- 
concerned-like. And indeed, indeed, I had no notion then 
as they had been talking about little Lenny, such wilyuns 
as they were, though I have thought so since ! Oh, Lenny ! 
oh, dear little Lenny ! I wish somebody would knock my 
brains out, so I do ! Oh, dear 1 oh, dear 1 oh ! ” 

Pina, stop howling and go on with this statement ! ” 
said Anna, authoritatively, while Drusilla clasped her hands, 
and listened in an agony of anxiety. 

Well, ma’am, after the men turned away, little Lenny 
began to tease me for pennies to give to the dancing- 
monkey — and I gave him all I had, and he ran into the 
crowd to put them into the hat the monkey was holding 
out.” 

‘‘ You should not have let him do that,” said Anna. 


THE MISSING BOY. 


293 


Ma’am, you know how sudden and self-willed he is I 
He sprang away from me before I could stop him. And I 
ran after him to bring him out. But, just at that very 
moment, there came rushing down the sidewalk, and 
right through the crowd, a man with his head hare and 
bloody, followed by a running crowd, all yelling at the 
top of their voices : 

‘ Stop thief! stop thief ! ’ 

And they overturned the organ man and his dancing- 
monkey, and carried off his crowd with them. I ran after 
them calling for little Lenny, who was swept out of my 
sight by the rushing stream of people. I ran with all my 
speed and I called with all my voice, but I got knocked 
from one side of the walk to the other, and thrown down 
and run over, and trampled on, and swore at, and — and 
that was the w'ay I lost little Lenny. I wuis hunting up 
and down for him when the policeman found me and fetched 
me home. Oh, dear ! oh, me, that ever I should live to see 

the day 1 Oh, missus ! oh. Miss Anna ! oh ” 

‘‘ Now stop. Let us talk calmly for a moment,” said 
Anna, reflectively. Let me see. Lenny could not have 
been hurried off by those thief-hunters ; because, if he had 
been, a tender little creature like himself would have been 
thrown down, run over, and left behind, and you would have 
found him on the ground more or less injured.” 

“ That was w'hat I was a dreading of every minute. Miss 
Anna. Oh, little Lenny ! dear little Lenny ! ” 

Therefore,” continued Anna, “ as he was not so run over 
and left, he must have been snatched up by some one and 
carried off under cover of the confusion. The kidnapper 
probably darted up one of the side streets or alleys, and dis- 
appeared with his prey in that way.” 

“That was what I thought, too. Miss Anna, when I 
remembered seeing them bad-looking men and hearing 
what they said. They was a watching of their opportu- 


294 


THE BRIDE S FATE. 


nity to seize little Lenny and run away with him ; and i J 
course they must have been set on by his father, who 
wanted him ; else what call would they have to take the 
child ? — they who don’t look as if they had overmuch love 
for children, or for any other creatures, to tell the holy 
truth ; no, nor likewise did they look as if they was able to 
keep themselves from starving, much less a child ; so it 
stands to reason as they was hired to seize little Lenny by 
some un who did love him, and was able to keep him ; and 
who could that have been but his own father?” 

“ Pina, I think you are probabl}’^ right in your conjecture, 
for I cannot even imagine what motive two such men as you 
describe could possibly have for stealing a child like Lenny, 
They must have been employed by his father, and if so, 
they must have been engaged some days ago, and have 
been on the lookout for the boy ever since.’^ 

Oh Anna, Anna, do you really think he is with his 
father ? If I thought so, one-half this terrible anxiety 
would be quieted. Oh, Anna, do you truly think Lenny is 
with Alick ? ” cried Drusilla, clasping her hands. 

I have little doubt that Alexander employed these men 
to get little Lenny. I have little doubt but that, for the 
sake of gain, they will faithfully perform their part of the 
compact. My only wonder is that Alick should have em- 
ployed such very disreputable instruments.” 

“ Pina, is that all ? Do you know no more ? ” anxiously 
inquired Drusilla. 

“ It is all, missus — every bit. I have told you not only 
all that happened, but all I seed and heard and even 
thought.” 

“Now then for action,” said the young mother, rising 
with a new-born resolution and ringing the bell. 

The waiter answered it. 

“ Order a cab for me immediately, and come and let me 
know when it is at the door,” she said. 


THE MISSING BOY. 295 

And when the man went away to do her bidding, she 
turned to Pina and said : 

Stop crying and do as I direct you. Go to my room 
and bring me here my bonnet, gloves and mantle.” 

Pina, still sobbing, went to obey. 

And now, Anna, if you wish to accompany me, go and 
get ready quickly. I have something to do in the mean- 
while.” 

“ Where are you going, Drusilla ? ” inquired Mrs. Ham- 
mond, w'ondering to see the agonized young mother take 
tlie direction of affairs with so much firmness. 

am going to institute a search for little Lenny. I 
must find him before I sleep. Use your pleasure, Anna 
dear, in going with me, or staying at home.” 

I shall go with *you most certainly,” said Mrs. Ham- 
mond, leaving the room to prepare for her ride. 

Meanwhile Drusilla sat down to her writing desk, and 
wrote off rapidly, disjointed paragraphs on several sheets of 
paper. 

Anna returned ready for her drive, and found Drusilla 
thus occupied. 

What in the world are you doing, my dear ? ” inquired 
Mrs. Hammond. 

Preparing slips of paper that may, or may not, be 
wanted ; for no time must be lost. See, here is a telegram 
to be sent to uncle at Southampton, if necessary. Here 
are a dozen copies of an advertisement, descriptive of little 
Lenny’s person and dress, and of the circumstances of his 
disappearance, and the reward offered for his restoration, to 
be put, if required, into to-morrow’s papers. Still I hope 
that none of these things need be done. We must drive 
first to Mivart’s, where Alexander stops, or did stop, and 
see if he is still there, and if he has the child in his posses- 
sion. If we find that Lenny is safe with his father, then 
it will be all right, for 1 feel sure that my boy will be 


296 


THE bride’s fate. 


amused and happy for a little while, and then 1 e will want 
to come home to me, and Alick will never be so cruel as to 
keep him from his mother. But if we do not find him with 
Alick, then we must send this telegram immediately to 
Southampton to summon uncle hack to town ; and we must 
have this advertisement inserted in all the papers, and 
posted all over London ; and we must employ the whole 
detective police force, or as many of it as we can procure, 

to prosecute the search It is time the cab were here. I 

wish it would come,” said Drusilla, touching the hell. 

Good Heaven, Drusilla ! how you do astonish me ! 
Who would have believed that you — a young and delicate 
woman, a doting and anxious mother — could have display- 
ed so much coolness and resolution in such an hour of trial 
and suffering,” exclaimed Anna, in genuine admiration. 

“ Ah, Anna ! if experience has disciplined me in any- 
thing, it has disciplined me in self-control.” 

At this moment the door opened, and the waiter appear- 
ed and announced : 

Your cab waits, madam.” 

“ Come then,” said Drusilla 

And followed by Anna and attended by Pina, she hur- 
ried down stairs. 

They entered the cab, gave the order, and were driven 
rapidly towards Mivart’s hotel. 

The drive was accomplished in almost perfect silence. 

Drusilla sat pale and still, suffering inexpressible 
anguish, yet controlling herself by a mighty effort. 

Anna was occupied by her own anxious thoughts. Of 
course she knew the mission to Mivart’s in search of Alick 
to be quite vain, and worse than vain, since it involved loss 
of time where time was of vital importance ; yet she dared 
not enlighten Drusilla by explaining the absence of Alex- 
ander, for she feared by doing so to add to the terrible 
anxiety that was alread}'’ oppressing the young wife and 


THE MISSING BOY. 


297 


mother. And, also, Anna suspected that Alexander really 
was concerned in the abduction of little Lenny ; that he 
had hired these men to carry him off ; and had most prob- 
ably instructed them to bring him to Mivart’s. Therefore, 
although she knew there was no chance of finding Alexan- 
der, she cherished some hope of hearing of little Lenny. 
The men who abducted him might have carried him there, 
not knowing of their employer’s absence. If so, little 
Lenny might be recovered before the day was over. 

Amid all her grave anxieties, Anna felt some little curi- 
osity upon one point : Drusilla had grown so sensitive and 
timid in regard to her beloved but truant husband that she 
had shrunk even from the casual glance of his eye in 
public ; and now she was going to Mivart’s in quest of 
him ; after all that had passed, she was voluntarily seeking 
him ; true, it was to find the child ; true, also, she could 
not see her husband ; but — would she ask to see Alexan- 
der ? Could she endure to see him ? What were her 
thoughts and feelings on that subject? Anna would ask. 

“ Drusilla,” she said, “ when we reach Mivart’s shall 
you send in your card to Alexander ? ” 

The young mother started. She had been in a deep 
reverie about the present condition of her child, and had 
not heard her distinctly. 

Anna repeated her question. 

Yes ; I shall send in my card,” she said. 

And shall you see him ? ” 

“That shall be as he pleases. Here is the card that I 
have prepared to send in to him,” she continued, taking 
from her gold case a small envelope directed to Lord 
Killcrichtoun, and drawing from it her card, bearing the 
name, “ Mrs. Alexander Lyon,” and the pencilled lines, 
“ Only tell me little Lenny is with you and is safe and 1 
will thank and bless youP “ I shall send that up. He 
can reply to it by a pencilled line, or a verbal message, or 
he can come dov n and see me, as he wills,” said Drusilla. 


298 


THE bride’s fate. 


Drusa, you have thought of everything ; jou have pre- 
pared for every emergency. But maternal love is a great 
sharpener of the wits, I suppose,” said Anna. 

It confers a sixth sense I sometimes think, Anna,” she 
replied. 

When they reached the splendid palace in the West End 
known as Mivart’s Hotel, the ladies alighted, and were 
shown into an elegant reception room, where they sat 
down. 

Drusilla then called a hall waiter, gave him her 
enveloped card, and directed him to take it at once to Lord 
Killcrichtoun. 

Lord Killcrichtoun is not in town, madam,” replied the 
man. 

Not in town ! ” exclaimed Drusilla, disappointment and 
terror seizing her heart and . blanching her face. I 
thought he was in to-wn ! I saw him last night at the 
American Embassy. Does he not stop here ? ” 

Yes, madam ; my lord has apartments here, but he left 
suddenly this morning by the early train for Southamp- 
ton.” 

“For Southampton!” echoed Drusilla, in surprise and 
dismay, and with the vague fear that his journey thither 
was in some fatal way the occasion of General Lyon’s and 
Dick’s sudden departure for that port. 

“ Yes, madam)” answered the imperturbable waiter, “ my 
lord left by the eight o’clock train, taking his servants with 
him.” 

“ When will he return ? ” 

“Can’t possibly say, madam. My lord set no day for 
his return. But if you will excuse me, I will make so bold 
as to say I do not think he will be gone long. He took 
nothing but a small portmanteau with him.” 

Drusilla reflected a moment and then sealing her 
envelope, and handing it to the waiter with a crown piece 
she said : 


THE MISSING BOY. 299 

" Will you be so kind as to send this to bis address at 
Southampton ? ” 

“ Why, madam, if you would not mind risking the note, 
I might send it at a venture to the Dolphin Tavern at 
Southampton, where it might chance to meet my lord, as 
that is the house he usually has his letters and papers sent 
to, when down there. But I am not quite certain now about 
his address, seeing that he never left any orders this time 
where to send his letters. But if this is not very valuable, 
you might run the risk of sending it to the Dolphin.’^ 

“ I thank you, send it immediately to the Dolphin. It is 
not of itself of any worth, except as a message to Lord 
Killcrichtoun. If it does not find him it might as well be 
lost,” said Drusilla, rising to go. 

But Anna had also something to say to the waiter. Lay- 
ing her hand upon Drusilla’s arm, she pressed her back 
into her seat, and then turning to the man, she inquired : 

“ Has any one beside ourselves been here to inquire for 
Lord Killcrichtoun ? ” 

Yes, madam, many persons.” 

Gentlemen or ladies ? ” 

Ko ladies, madam. Three gentlemen were in to see 
him very early this morning, before he went away.” 

Ah, but I mean since he went away.” 

/^Oh, yes, madam, quite a number.” 

Again, gentlemen or ladies ? ” / 

Neither one nor the other, madam ; men.^^ 

Men ! Ah ! what sort of men ? ” 

Common, roughs, madam.” 

Yes ! yes ! did any of these men have a child with 
them ? ” 

Beg pardon, madam ? ” 

“I ask you if either of these rough-looking men had a 
child with him — a fair-haired, blue-eyed little boy, of about 
two years old ” 


800 


THE bride’s fate. 


** No, madam, certainly not.” 

You are sure ? ” 

‘‘ Perfectly sure, madam.” 

Well, waiter, attend to me. We have lost a child — 
and have some reason to suppose that the child was brought 
to this house this afternoon.” 

It has not, madam, I can assure j’ou.”. 

We have cause to believe, then, that he will be brought 
here — Drusilla, dear, give me one of your cards and one of 
these advertisements — Now here, waiter, is a description of 
the child ; and here is our address. If such a child should 
be brought here, I desire that you will detain him, and 
those who bring him, and send for us. Do this and you 
shall be richly rewarded.” 

I will do it, ma’am, if the little boy should be brought 
here,’’ said the man. 

And then, as time was precious, Drusilla and Anna arose 
and re-entered their cab. 

Where now, Drusilla ? ” inquired Anna, as they seated 
themselves. 

Instead of answering her cousin immediately, Drusilla 
beckoned the cabman to approach, and said : 

Drive to the nearest Telegraph Office, and drive fast. 

The man touched his hat, shut the door, mounted his box 
and started his horses. 

Then Drusilla turned to her cousin and explained : 

“ My dear Alick may, or may not have employed those 
men to carry off little Lenny. If he has done so, he could 
not have expected them to do his errand to-day, else cer- 
tainly he would not have left town with the chance of leav- 
ing the child in such hands. In that view of the case I 
left mj’^ card with the pencilled lines for the waiter to send 
to him, to let him know that Lenny is in the hands of his 
agents, supposing that they are his, and in any case to let 
him know the child is missing.” 


THE MISSING Bi Y. 


801 


Oh, Drusilla ! how clearly you speak, and yet how 
wretchedly you look ! Heaven help you, poor, young 
mother ! ” said Mrs. Hammond, as the tears rushed to her 
eyes. 

Oh, Anna ! don’t, don’t, dear ! don’t pity me ! don’t 
Bay anything to weaken me ! I have need of all my 
strength ! ” cried Drusilla, through her white and quivering 
lips. 

Anna, with heaving bosom and overflowing eyes, turned 
her head away from her and looked out of the window. 

You asked me just now where we were going next. 
You heard me tell the cabman to drive to the Telegraph 
Office. I must send off two telegrams to Southampton. I 
cannot wait the slow motions of the mails. One I shall 
send to Alick, directed at a venture to the ^ Dolphin.’ The 
other I must send to uncle ; but you must tell me where to 
direct that, as I do not know his address,” said Drusilla. 

“ Dick told me, in any sudden emergency that might 
require his or grand-pa’s presence, to direct to them at the 
* International,’ ” replied Anna. 

^^Very well; we will telegraph there.” 

At this moment the cab stopped before the Telegraph 
Office. 

The office of course was full of people, and Anna and 
Drusilla had to wait their turn. 

While standing at the counter, Drusilla borrowed pen, 
ink and paper from one of the clerks, and wrote her two 
messages. The first, addressed to her husband, ran thus : 

Little Lenny was stolen from his nurse, hy two men, 
this afternoon, in the Strand, and has not yet been recov- 
ered, Drusilla.” 

She submitted this to the examination of Anna, saying: 

That is quite enough and not too much to send. If he 


802 


THE bride’s fate 


is concerned in the abduction, he will hasten at once to 
London to take the child from the dangerous hands he is in. 
If he is not so, still I think he will hurry hither to help in 
the search.” 

You reason rightly, dear,” said Anna. 

Drusilla then wrote a second message, to be sent to Gen- 
eral Lyon. It was couched in these terms ; 

Little Lenny is missing since this afternoon. Come io 
London hy the first train. If in the interim you have time 
to do sOj seek Alexander at the Dolphin and tell himP 

This also she showed to Anna, saying : 

“You see I had to modify my message since learning 
that Alexander was also in Southampton ; and so also I had 
to destroy the slip I wrote at the Morley House and pre- 
pare this. How I see it is my turn to be served,” she said 
taking her two messages and carrying them to the operator. 
She paid for them and then inquired ! 

“ How soon will these go ? ” 

This instant, mum,” answered the bothered operator, 
so brusquely that Drusilla did not venture to ask another 
question, but merely left her address and a request that 
if an answer came to either of her telegrams it might be 
forwarded immediately. 

“ How, my dear, what next ? ” inquired Anna, as they 
re-entered their carriage. 

“ To the ^ Times ’ ofiSce, and from there to all the news- 
paper offices in turn. It may not be really necessary to ad- 
vertise ; and I hope that it is not ; but still I must lose no 
time and miss no chance,” said Drusilla. 

And having given her order to the cabman, she was 
driven rapidly to the head-quarters of the great thunderer. 

She got out and left her advertisement. And then re- 
turning to her carriage, ordered it to the office of the 
“ Podt.” 


THE MISSING BOY. 


803 


And so in succession she visited the offices of the “ Chron- 
icle,” “Express,” “Dispatch,” “Leader,” “News,” “Bul- 
letin,” and, in short, of every daily paper in London. 

In each of the offices she also, in addition to giving in 
her advertisement for the paper, ordered posters of the lost 
child to he printed, and engaged bill stickers to paste them 
up. 

Next she drove to the lodgings of the Seymour family, 
to tell the colonel of the loss of little Lenny, and to ask him 
to assist her in the search for the child. 

But here she was informed that Colonel Seymour and the 
latter were gone to the theatre ; hut that the servants did 
not know wLat particular theatre. 

So Drusilla wrote a note and left it for the colonel. 

It was now nine o’clock, and quite dark ; and having done 
all she could possibly do towards the recovery of her child, 
she ordered the cabman to drive back to the hotel, to meet 
the horrors of her lonely night and forced inaction. 

And, oh ! the awful sense of bereavement, of loneliness, 
of vacancy, in entering again her apartments, in -which 
little Lenny was no longer to be found ! The heart-rending 
pang of terror in conjecturing -where he might be ! 

While she had been busily, actively engaged in taking 
measures for his recovery, her thoughts had been somewhat 
distracted from concentrating themselves upon his present 
condition. 

But now, when she had done all that she could possibly 
do towards finding him, now that she had come home to the 
old familiar rooms, made desolate by his loss, and was 
obliged to abide in inactivity within them, — now that she 
missed him everywhere and every moment, — the reaction 
from courage to despair was so sudden and overwhelming 
that her very brain reeled, her reason for the moment 
Beemed imperilled. With a half-stifled cry, she sank upon 
her chair, muttering with gasping breath: 


304 


THE bride’s fate. 


It is not possible ! it cannot be ! Lenny gone, and I 
not know where he is ! Wake me ! Wake me ! I have 
the nightmare ! 

Anna sprang to her side, and put her arms around her, 
saying : 

“ Drusilla, Drusilla ! my darling, courageous girl ! collect 
your powers — control yourself ! ” 

Is it TRUE, Anna ? Oh, say it is • not — not true ! 
Lenny is not lost ! she exclaimed, wildly gazing into 
A.nna’s eyes. 

“We hope that he is safe wherever he is,” said Anna 
wishingly. 

“Wherever he is! Oh, my Heaven, yes, it is so! He 
is lost, and we do not know where to find him ! ” she 
exclaimed, distractedly starting up and walking the floor, 
and wringing and twisting her hands. “ Where is he ? 
where is he to-night ? Oh, in all this great crowded city, 
where is my little child — my poor, little two-year old child, 
w^ho cannot help himself? He is frightened to death 
wherever he is — I know it ! He is calling for me, he is 
crying for me, at this very moment ! Oh, my Lenny, my 
Lenny ! I would go to you through fire if I knew where to 
find you in this great Babylon ! I would, my little one, I 
would ! But I do not know where in this wilderness to 
look for you to-night, and you must cry for me in vain, my 
little child, you must ! Oh, what a horrible night ! I can- 
not, I cannot live through it ! I cannot breathe in this 
house ! I must go out and look for him again ! I must ! 1 
must ! ” 

Her head was thrown back, her arms raised, and her 
hands clasped upon her throbbing temples, and she reeled 
as she walked to and fro in the room. 

Anna, who had kept near her, seeing her about to fall, 
caught her and made her sit down, while she said: 

“ Drusa, dearest, be reasonable ! be yourself I ” 


THE MISSING BOY. 


305 


** I must go out and look for my little child ! I must, ^ 
Anna ! I must ! I cannot live through this horrible night 
if I stay in this house ! ” she cried. 

^^Drusa, consider! you can do no good by going out to- 
night, but much harm. You could not find little Lenny, 
but you would lose yourself. You have already done all 
that you possibly could do for his recovery. Having done 
so, leave the result to Heaven.” 

Oh, if we could only know where he is ! ” 

“ We shall find out to-morrow, no doubt. The adver- 
tisements will be read ; the posters will be seen ; the large 
reward offered will stimulate inquiry ; the detective police 
will be on the alert ; and, in all human probabilitj', before 
this time to-morrow little Lenny will be in your arms ! and 
grand-pa, and Dick, and who knows but Alick, too, will all 
be here rejoicing with you in your child’s restoration! 
Drusilla, this cloud may have a silver lining ; this transient 
trial may bring about a great happiness,” said Anna, 
speaking with perhaps more cheerful confidence than she 
really felt. 

“ Heaven grant it ! Oh, Heaven in its mercy grant it ! 
But till then ! But to-night ! Oh, how shall I live 
through this horrible night ! How will my little child 
endure it? my tender little child, who was never away 
from me before ! And, oh, in what wretchedness he may 
be ! in what terror ! in what danger ! crying for his mother 
to come and take him, and she knows not where to find 
him ! ” 

‘^Drusilla! Drusilla! use your own excellent judgment. 

Is it likely at all that the child should be in danger to- 
night, or even in terror ? Children live and thrive in the 
lowest haunts of London. The men who stole him for his 
father will of course take the best possible care of him in 
order to deliver him in the best condition and to get their 
money ; so he will be in no danger j and as for his being 
19 


806 


THE bride’s fate. 


in terror, little Lenny is a ^ game t)oy,’ afraid of nothing 
on earth, neither of ‘ thunder nor horses,’ as he once told 
me, much less of men ; and as to crying for you, he is 
probably by this time fast asleep, and well watched, for his 
abductors know that he is a treasure that will bring money 
to their ragged pockets.” 

Oh, if I could think so ! — oh, if I could think so ! Or 
if I could only know where he is — know where I might lay 
my hand on him to-night, or to-morrow, I might be at 
something like peace ; but oh, Anna, it is distracting, it is 
maddening to feel that in all this huge, crowded city I do 
not know where he is ! ” 

Drusilla,” said Anna, laying her hand upon the young 
mother’s shoulder, looking in her eyes, speaking sweetly 
and solemnly, and appealing to the deepest feelings of the 
young Christian’s soul. “ Drusilla, if we do not know 
where little Lennj^ is to-night, his Heavenly Father does. 
He sees him, watches over him, protects him. What 
would your knowledge of his whereabouts, or your power 
to protect him, be to that of his Heavenly Father, whose 
eyes are over all his works, who is as all-merciful as he is 
all-mighty. Take this faith home to your heart and let it 
comfort you.” 

Oh, Anna, that does comfort me. To think that the 
Lord knows where he is, though I do not ; the Lord can 
take care of him, though I cannot. Oh, I thought no one 
but the thieves could know where little Lenny is to-night ; 
but behold the Lord knows ! And I feared that I could do 
nothing more for him to-night; but behold I can pray to 
the Lord for him. I will spend the night in praying for 
him ! ” said the bereaved mother, growing somewhat more 
composed. 

But there was no going to bed in the ladies’ apartments 
that night. 

As they had not broken their fast since morning, Anna 


Alexander’s jealousy. 


807 


ordered tea to be served in the drawing-room. Consumed 
by the feverish thirst brought on by mental distress, they 
drank some tea, but would eat nothing. 

When the service was removed, both went to Annans 
room, for Drusilla did not dare to trust herself within her 
own desolated chamber, and they changed their carriage 
dresses for loose wrappers, and they spent the night in 
vigil and in prayer. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Alexander’s jealousy 

Ten thousand fears 

Invented wild, ten thousand frantic views 
Of horrid rivals, hanging on the charms, 

Por which he melts in fondness, eat him up 

With fervent anguish and consuming rage. — Thompson. 

We must return to the hour when Alexander threw him- 
self into his cab and dashed back to his hotel. He did not 
go to bed, you may be sure. He had a countryman and an 
acquaintance in the same house, who was no other than our 
young friend Erancis Tredegar. 

Erancis occupied the singular position of being on friend- 
ly terms with both Alick and Drusilla, without knowing op 
even suspecting the relation that these two bore to each 
other; and, moreover, as he never happened to mention the 
name of Lord Killcrichtoun to Mrs. Lyon, or that of Mrs. 
Lyon to Lord Killcrichtoun, neither one of these was aware 
of his acquaintance with the other. 

Mr. Tredegar had been at the Ambassadress’ ball, and 
had returned to his hotel about the same hour that Alexan- 
der got back there. 

So Alexander, instead of going directly to his own 
apartments, went first to Mr. Tredegar’s room and rapped. 


808 


THE bride’s fate 


Who’s there ? ” cried a voice from within. 

‘‘ It is I. Have you retired yet ? ” 

“ Ho. Come in.” 

Alick entered and found his friend, divested of his coat 
and vest and preparing for bed. 

Put on your clothes again, Francis ; you must do some- 
thing for me before ’you sleep,” said Alexander, walking 
towards the dressing-table at which Mr. Tredegar stood, 
with his back to his visitor. 

Good gracious, Alick, my dear fellow, what on earth 
can you want me to do for you at four o’clock in the morn- 
ing, after having made a night of it at the hall ? ” laughed 
Francis Tredegar, turning around in much surprise ; but 
his surprise became consternation as he gazed on the 
haggard features and ghastly complexion of his visitor. 

Merciful Heaven, Alick ! ” he exclaimed, “ what is the 
matter ? What on earth has happened to you ? ” 

I have been insulted, outraged, beyond all endurance ! 
And I want you to be the bearer of a challenge from 
me ! ” grimly replied Alexander. 

" A challenge, Alick ? In the name of reason, are you 
mad?” 

1 wish I were ! Perhaps I am ! But in a few 
words, Tredegar, if I convince you that I have been wronged 
to a degree unendurable by an honorable man, will you 
then become the bearer of my challenge to the base caitiff 
who has so foully abused me ? ” 

“Why certainly I will, Alick. In any just cause I will 
stand by you to the very death ! But is it really as bad as 
you think ? ” 

“ ‘ As bad as I think ? ’ Listen.” 

“ Sit down, Alick, and tell me all about it,” said Trede- 
gar, rolling towards his visitor a comfortable arm-chair. 

Alick dropped into the offered seat. 

Tredegar perched himself on the corner of the dressing- 
table. 


Alexander’s jealousy. 309 

** I ■will put a case and let you judge for yourself. Sup- 
pose that you were devoted to a beautiful, amiable and ac- 
complished woman, who was at least e^pally devoted to 
yourself — ” 

Heavens ! If I could suppose that I should be in para- 
dise ! ” 

“Ho levity, if you please, Francis.” 

“Beg pardon. I will be as grave as a rejected lover, or 
—as an accepted one ! ” 

“ Suppose this mutual devotion had grown up with you, 
from infancy to maturity ; and that it was consecrated by 
the most sacred bonds and pledges.” 

“Meaning, poetically speaking ^ bonds of matrimony^ 
and ‘ pledges of affection ’ — otherwise, practically prosing, 
wife and children.” 

“ Ho, not exactly ; hut, to continue : Suppose this mutual 
devotion to have lived on in love, and trust, and joy, and 
peace until certain untoward circumstances — j’^our own 
madness, to wit : — disturbed the harmony of your relations ; 
yet still in all the discord this mutual love lived on ; lived 
on, only deepened and strengthened by separation and 
suffering, — lived on until just at the time you were begin- 
ning to dream of reconciliation and reunion with your 
first love — ^your only love, your life’s love — a base vjllain 
steps in between you, and, favored by fortune and by 
position, dazzles the mind and steals the heart of your be- 
loved I ” 

“ And is that suppository case your own, Alick ? ” 

“ Yes, it is. What would you do if it were yours ? ” 

“ I’d let him have her ! I’d give ’em my blessing, and let 
^em go ! But then I’m not you, Alick ; if you feel inclined 
to call the fellow out and giving him a chance to settle 
your prior claims by blowing out your heated brains, why 
that’s your affair ! ” 

And you ■will have nothing to do with it 7 ” 


810 


THE bride’s fate. 


did not say that, Alick ; quite the contrary I You 
have been wronged, and I will see you righted if I can— 
and righted in your own way too ! 

“ Then you will take my challenge ? ” 

With all my heart. To whom am I to take it ? ” ^ 

‘‘To Prince Ernest of Hohenlinden. May the demon 
fly away with him ! ” 

“ To Prince Ernest of Hohenlinden. Whew ! ” 

“ What’s the matter ? ” 

“ He’s a dead shot — the deadliest shot on this side the 
ocean ! ” 

" “ That is not saying much for him ! I’m a second or 
third rate marksman on the other side of the ocean. So 
that makes us about equal. Will you come to my room 
now, Tredegar ? I wish to write my dispatch and send it 
off at once. Ho time should he lost in these affairs.” 

“ What ! are you in such hot haste to meet your foe ? 
Are your feet so ‘ swift to shed blood ? ’ Will you then 
rush, as our grand Halleck has it — 

* To death as to a festival ? ’ 

Alick, Alick ! I am sorry for you ! ” 

“ Spare your compassion and come to my room,” said 
Alexander, rising and leading the way through the halls 
and corridors that led to his own sumptuous suite of apart- 
ments. 

Arrived there, Alexander made Erancis Tredegar sit 
down, while he placed himself at his writing-desk and 
penned his challenge to the prince. 

“I shall not have far to seek, at any rate,” said Mr. 
Tredegar, as he received the note, “ for Prince Ernest has 
apartments on this very fl.oor.” 

“ I knew of course that he was stopping here,” said 
Alexander. 

“ And now then, if it is a discreet question, who is the 


ALEXANDER S JEALOUSY. 


811 


fair lady for whose sake two such gallant knights are to do 
battle ? ” inquired Tredegar, poising the paper on his 
finger. 

But it is not a fair question, Tredegar. The name of 
the lady should never be mentioned in such matters. I 
cannot utter it even to you, dear Francis,’’ said Alick, 
gravely. 

“ All right. But see here ! It is never that beautiful 
young widow, Mrs. Lyon, who made such a sensation as 
the belle of the ball last night ? ” 

Bosh ! ” exclaimed Alexander, growing deadly white, 
and jerking himself around in apparent impatience, but 
with a real desire to conceal his emotion — ‘‘ Bosh, I say ! 
It is no widow for whose sake I wish to meet him. There 
is not a widow alive in whom I feel the slightest inter- 
est ! ” 

“ Well, then, I think you are all at sea about the prince. 
He thinks of no other woman in the world but the beauti- 
ful widow. His devotion to her was the general topic of 
conversation last night.” 

And I tell you that you are all ^ at sea,” as you call it, 
my dear Francis. Come ! you have taken my w^ord for the 
justice of my cause, now take my challenge to my foe.” 
Well, that is soon done, unless he has gone to bed.” 

“ That he has not I will venture to predict. He is 
waiting my challenge.” 

As eager for the fray as yourself, eh ? ” 

Quite.” 

“ But see here, Alick ! I promised to stand by you in 
this cause, and I will do it; but though I bear your 
challenge, I shall try to settle this affair amicably.” 

^ Amicably ? ’ It can never ” 

Oh I know it would be quite useless to argue with you ; 
but Prince Ernest may be more amenable to reason, more 
open to conviction.” 


812 


THE bride’s fate. 


Will you go ? ’’ 

“ Well, yes, I am going,” said Tredegar, leaving the 
room. 

As soon as he was alone Alexander looked at the clock. 
It wanted a quarter to five. 

In passing before his dressing-table, his eye caught the 
reflection of his ghastly face in the glass. 

“ Good heavens ! ” he said, “ I look like a ghost already, 
I shall not look more pallid after that fellow has killed me 
— if he does kill me — than I do now ; and that chance of 
death reminds me that I must settle up my worldly affairs 
as quickly as I can.” 

So saying, he sat down to his writing table, took a sheet 
of foolscap and a coarse pen, and began to write. He 
wrote a few lines in an ^‘engrossing” hand, and then 
stopped, with a troubled brow, to reflect. Thus writing 
and reflecting, he completed the work he was on in about 
half an hour. 

Then he took note paper and another pen and wrote a 
letter, which he placed in an envelope, sealed and directed. 

Finally he sat back in his chair, and fell into deep 
thought. 

When Mr. Tredegar had been gone an hour, he returned 
and re-entered the room. 

“ Well ? ” exclaimed Alick, looking up. 

“Well, it is settled,” said Tredegar, dropping into a 
chair near his friend. “ I found Prince Ernest even more 
resolutely bent upon the meeting than you are. He con- 
siders himself the insulted party. When I requested to 
see him, I was admitted at once to his chamber, where I 
found him tearing up and down the floor in his sacred shirt. 
If my errand had not been so grave, I could have laughed. 
He made no sort of apology for his extreme dishabille, but 
seemed to know my errand. I handed him your challenge. 
He then began to rave about the insult that had been 


Alexander’s jealousy. 


313 


offered him, and the ^ grawnd satees-fac-shee-on,^ as he 
called it, that he would take. He introduced me to his 
friend. Major Ernest Zollenhoffar, or some such barbaric 
name, and he told me to settle the preliminaries of the 
meeting with him. Then he dismissed us to an adjoining 
room.^^ 

And you settled them ? ’’ 

Yes ; subject, of course, to the approval of the princi- 
pals. Prince Ernest approves. It is now for you to pass 
judgment.” 

It is not likely that I shall object. Let me hear 
them.” 

Francis Tredegar took from his breast pocket a folded 
paper, opened it, and partly read from it and partly said : 

As it is not possible that this meeting should take place 
on English soil, it is arranged that the parties go by the 
next train to Southampton, take the steamer to Jersey, and 
proceed to the open country between St. Aubins and St. 
Heleir. The exact spot of the duel to be settled afterward. 
The weapons are to be pistols. The distance ten paces. 
The signals — One — Two — Three. At the last word — ■ 
Fire ! ” 

That will do. We must go by the eight o’clock train, 
which is the next. Let me see ; — it is now a quarter past 
five. We must leave this house by seven, in order to make 
sure of our train. Thus we have but an hour and three- 
quarters for preparation,” said Alexander. 

But I have not read jmu all the articles yet. There is 
something about surgeons and attendants ” 

“Let all that go. It is of minor importance,” said 
Alexander, laying his hand upon the cord of the bell that 
communicated with his valet’s room. 

He rang loudly and repeatedly. And presently the man 
made his appearance, half asleep and half dressed. 

“ Simms,” said his master, “ pack my portmanteau with 


314 


THE bride’s fate. 


a change of clothes and small dressing-case. We go to 
Southampton by the eight o’clock train.” 

The man stared a little at this unexpected order ; hut, 
being a well-trained servant, suppressed his surprise and 
hastened to obey his orders. 

Alexander examined his pistol-case, and, seeing that all 
was right, proceeded to prepare himself for his sudden 
journey. 

Trancis Tredegar repaired to his own chamber for the 
same purpose. 

Half an hour passed in this manner, and then Mr. Tred- 
egar returned, travelling-bag in hand. 

He found Alexander again at his writing desk. 

Come here, Francis, my dear boy ; I want you to wit- 
ness the signing of my will,” said Alexander, looking 
around. 

“ You will require two witnesses,” observed Francis 
Tredegar, gravely, as he approached the table. 

^^Yes, I know ! Here, Simms.” 

The valet came up. 

In the presence of his friend and his servant, Alexander 
signed his will. And then Francis Tredegar and John 
Simms signed as witnesses. 

^^Now, Tredegar, I have named you and another one, 
executors of this will. But I wish you to take charge of it 
in case anything should happen to me.” 

“ Oh, bosh ! ” said Tredegar, gaily, yet with a tremulous 
tone, — these affairs seldom end fatally.” 

But he took the will and put it carefully in his breast 
pocket. 

It is nearly seven o’clock now. I wonder if we could 
get some coffee. Go down, Simms, and see, and have it 
brought to this room,” said Alexander. 

The servant went on this errand. 

The master turned again to his friend. 


Alexander’s jealousy. 815 

‘‘Here, Prancis,” he said, gravely, as he handed the 
letter he had written ; ‘‘ I wish you, in case of my death, 
to deliver this letter to its address.’^ 

“ Oh, nonsense. There is going to be nothing so solemn. 
You may be wounded slightly, and as you are a good 
marksman you may wound Prince Eanest seriously. That 
will be all,” said Mr. Tredegar. But his voice trembled as 
he spoke, and his hand shook as he took charge of the 
letter. 

“ Why, good Heaven, Alick ! this is directed to Mrs. 
Alexander Lyon, Morley House, Trafalgar Square,” said 
Tredegar, in unbounded astonishment, as he read the 
address. 

“Yes, that is what she calls herself,” said Alexander, 
grimly. 

“ And so it is the lovely widow, after all, who is the 
cause of this hostile meeting ? ” 

“ I told you that no widow had anything to do with it. 
She is not a widow, Tredegar.” 

“ Not a widow ! and just now you hinted that she was 
not Mrs. Lyon. Who is she, then, Alick ? ” 

“ She is Lady Killcrichtoun — she is my wife, Tredegar.” 

“ Good Heavens, Alick ! — Here ! — here is my hand ! I 
go with you now heart and soul ! I am not blood-thirsty, 
and I want no man’s life ; hut I do hope you will cripple 
that fellow for the rest of his days ! ” fervently exclaimed 
Francis Tredegar, clapping his hand into Alexander’s palm. 

“ I did not wish — I did not mean to mention her dear 
name in this connection ; circumstances and necessity have 
forced it from me. Treat it as a sacred confidence, Trede- 
gar.” 

“ By my soul I will ! ” 

“And listen to this: the fault, the folly, the madness 
belong to me and to that man. She is blameless ! — ^yes, 
blameless as any holy angel. I swear it by all my hopes of 
Heaven ! ^ 


816 


THE bride’s fate. 


The en>trance of the waiter with a tray put an end to the 
conversation for, the time being. 

The friends took each a cup of coffee, a muffin, and a 
chop, and then went down stairs and entered the cab that 
was already packed for their journey. 


— (fe,. • “••• * 

It 

CHAPTER XXiy ^ 

THE DUEL. 

Blood 1 he will have blood !—Shakspkabe: 

As Alexander and his party entered the fly that was to 
take them to the station, they observed the crested coach 
and liveried servants of Prince Ernest coming around the 
next corner. 

“ Ah ! ” said Alexander. We shall be at the station 
before them. I am glad of it. Our advance will enable 
us to take a whole carriage and avoid the possibility of 
going down in their company.” 

But it is not to be presumed but that Prince Ernest 
will do the same thing — will- engage a whole carriage for 
himself and suite, answered^Tredegar. 

“ If he can. But whole carriages are not always to be 
had, at the last moment before starting. There may chance 
to be one, and that I will secure.” 

They were bowling rapidly along the streets as Alexan- 
der spoke. 

In due time they reached the crowded station. 

“ It is a notable blessing that we are not encumbered 
with baggage,” said Mr. Tredegar, as they pressed their 
way to the first-class ticket window. 

Yes ; what little we have can be taken in the carriage 
with us,” replied Alexander. 


THE DUEL. 


317 


High over the heads of the crowd that was before them, 
Francis Tredegar held his ten-pound note* and high also 
over their voices he spoke : 

“We want a whole first-class carriage, if you please.” 

The note was taken. 

“ How far ? ” inquired the agent. 

“ Through,” answ'ered Francis. 

The tickets were handed him. 

Francis clutched them and said : 

“ Come ! we must hurry all the same in order to secure 
ourselves.” 

As they pressed outward through the crowd, they saw a 
servant in the livery of Prince Ernest pressing inward 
towards the ticket office. And before they had quite 
worked their w^ay through they heard the man call for a 
whole first-class carriage. 

“ You see he is after the same thing. Let us hurry to 
the train. First come first served, you know. And there 
may he but one,” remarked Alick. 

They pressed forward to the railway platform ; found a 
guard and showed him their tickets and — a crown piece to 
hurry his movements. 

Guard touched his hat, opened a door and popped our 
party into a roomy carriage with eight comfortable seats. 

“ The only wholly vacant one on the train, sir, I can 
assure you,” said the guard, pocketing his crown piece, 
touching his hat and closing the door. 

“ Ah ! ” whispered Alexander, rubbing his hands, “ I 
told you so.” It was such a satisfaction for him to tliink he 
had been beforehand with the unlucky Austrian, who w^ould 
therefore be compelled to distribute himself and his suite 
promiscuously through ti e carriages. 

He had no idea that another carriage would be attached 
to the train especially to accommodate Prince Ernest and 
his suite. Yet such was the case. 


818 


THE bride’s fate. 


Tlie train started. It was the express, and it went on at 
a tremendous rate. Houses, streets, suburbs, fields, woods, 
towns flew behind it. 

How did our travellers pass the two or three hours of 
their journey ? They were going down by the express, for 
the avowed purpose of engaging in a mortal combat. It 
might be supposed that their time would be spent in sorely 
troubled thought. Will it be believed that it was passed in 
— sleep ? 

Yet so it was. Human nature must sleep. The con- 
demned criminal sleeps the night before his execution ; the 
victim on the rack has been known to sleep in the intervals 
between each turn of the screw ; the agonized mother drops 
asleep in the interims of her travail. 

Alexander was going to kill or to be killed; Trancis 
Tredegar was going down 'to help him meet either fate. 
Yet these, by no means hardened sinners, really slept. 

Worn out by want of rest, and affected by the swift 
motion of the train, they slept soundly — waking up only 
once in a while, when the train would stop at some unusu- 
ally noisy way station. 

Doubtless on these wakings both would realize with a 
pang of recollection the horror of the business upon which 
they were travelling. But if so neither gave a sign. If 
either spoke it would be to make some common-place 
remark, as : 

“ Ah-yah ! I do believe I have been asleep ! This 
dancing until four o’clock in the morning does use a fellow 
up confoundedly,” from Brands Tredegar ; or : 

“ Quite a pretty little village this where we are stopping 
now,” from Alexander. 

But not one word of the grave matter that occupied both 
minds. 

And as soon as the train started they would cease talk- 
ing, and soon after, fall asleep again, and sleep until the 
next stoppage at the next noisy station. 


THE DUEL. 


819 


Thus the hours passed swiftly. 

At length they were waked up by a very unusual bustle, 
and found themselves at a very unusually large station. 

“ This is a considerable town. I wonder what it is,” 
said Francis Tredegar, yawning and looking out of the 
window. 

It is Southampton and we are at our journey’s end,” 
answered Alexander. 

“ Indeed ! We have run down very soon.” 

“Not so very soon either. We slept all the way and 
knew little of the flight of time. It wants but twenty 
minutes to eleven o’clock, and we have but just time to 
catch the boat. Where is the guard ? I wish he would 
come and open the door and let us out. It is a confounded 
nuisance, this locking the carriage-doors on the outside, 
keeping one in a sort of flying prison,” grumbled Alexan- 
der, looking from the window up and down the platform for 
the guard. 

“ It is for one’s safety,” said Francis Tredegar. 

“ Oh, bosh ! as if I hadn’t any right to risk my own 
life ! It is not so precious to any one, I take it.” 

“ Well, but granting that, other lives may be precious to 
other people, and this rule is made for the safety of all.” 

As Francis Tredegar spoke the guard came up and 
unlocked the door, and released the prisoners. 

“ A quarter to eleven ! Come, Francis, hurry — we have 
not a moment to lose if we would catch the boat,” exclaim- 
ed Alexander, flying down the platform and beckoning a 
cab from the stand. 

Francis Tredegar and Alick’s valet hurried after him. 

“ To the St. Aubins steamboat, as fast as you can go,” 
was the order Alexander gave to the cabman, who stood 
hat in hand holding the door open. 

The man closed the door upon the impatient party, 
mounted his seat, and started his horses. 


They were driven rapidly down to the wharf, where the 
St. Aubins steamer lay getting up her steam. They got 
out, paid the cab, and passed on into the boat. 

Five minutes to eleven — we have just saved ourselves. 
But that dastard has not made his appearance yet ! Is it 
possible that he will back out at the last moment ? If he 
does, I will post him for a coward all over Europe ! ’’ mut- 
tered Alexander, frowning. 

“ There he comes now ! ” exclaimed Francis, as a car- 
riage rattled rapidly down towards the boat. 

And there he was, sure enough. It was not likely that 
the excitable ^Austrian was going to lag behind on such an 
adventure as this. 

Prince Ernest and his suite stepped upon deck just one 
minute and a half before the gang-plank was withdrawn, 
the signal-gun fired, and the steamer started. 

In passing on the deck, the adversaries met face to face. 
Each raised his hat with a stiff bow and passed on — Prince 
Ernest and his suite to the forward end of the boat, Alex- 
ander and his party to the aft. And they took good care 
not to meet again during the voyage. 

They had a fair day for their foul deed. The sky was 
unusually clear, the air calm, and the sea smooth. The 
steamer ran at the rate of ten knots an hour. 

Alexander and his party sat at the stern looking out at 
sea, and reading or pretending to read the morning papers 
served around by a newsboy who had the run of the boat. 

The boat was certainly not crowded. In fact there were 
very few passengers on board. And among them Alexan- 
der and his party saw not a face they knew except those 
of Prince Ernest and his second. 

At two o’clock, lunch was served in the saloon. 

“ Will you come down ? we have had but a slight break- 
fast,” pleaded Tredegar. 

1 cannot sit at the same table with a man I am about 
to fight and perhaps to kill,” muttered Alexander. 


THE DUEL. 


321 


** Kor would he sit at the same table with you, it is to be 
presumed. But there are probably several tables in the 
saloon. There goes Prince Ernest ! his fire-eating propen- 
sities do not take away his appetite for milder food it 
seems. Let him select his table, and then let us go down 
and take some other,” suggested Tredegar. 

Alexander assented. And in a few minutes they 
descended to the saloon and took seats at a table as far as 
possible from that occupied by Prince Ernest. 

The luncheon was a liberal one, as good as a dinner— 
with soup, fish, fowl, roast and boiled joints, pastry, cheese, 
and fruits. The wines were good and cheap, various and 
abundant. 

Again, will it be credited, Alexander, firmly believing 
that within a few hours he must kill or be killed, still ate 
and drank freely at this lunch. And Tredegar followed 
his example. Perhaps they did it that the sated stomach 
might soothe the brain. At any rate when they rose from 
the table, they went down to the lower deck to a spot 
set apart and sacred to smoking, and there they smoked 
out several cigars. After that they went to the cabin, 
turned into their respective berths, and went to sleep and 
slept until the ringing of the first dinner-bell aroused them. 

They arranged their toilettes and went into the saloon. 
And again, they sought seats as far as possible from the 
table occupied by Prince Ernest. 

It might have been the invigorating effects of the sea- 
air upon our party; but they certainly sat down and made 
as good a dinner at seven o’clock as if they had had no 
luncheon at two. After sitting an hour over their wine, 
they finished with each a cup of coffee, and then went up 
on deck. 

The sun had set, but the western horizon and the sea 
were still suffused with his lingering crimson lights. A 
few stars were coming out. 

20 


822 


THE bride’s fate. 


Alexander and Francis Tredegar sat down in tlie after 
part of the boat, and entered into conversation, talking of 
anything rather than of the approaching duel. 

“ What time shall we reach St. Aubin’s do you think ? 
inquired Alick. 

“ I have never been on this route before, so I cannot tell 
you of my own knowledge. From what I have been able 
to pick up from observations dropped by those that are 
more familiar with the voyage, I judge we shall be in port 
somewhere about midnight.” 

“ So late in the night? that will be very inconvenient.” 

“ Yes ; but unless we could have arrived before sunset, 
which was clearly impossible, we could have done nothing 
more to-day. We must stay at the best hotel to-night, and 
get our little affair quietly over in the morning.” 

“ The sooner the better,” muttered Alexander. 

The night was beautiful. The waters of the Channel, 
often so troubled, were calm as those of a placid lake. The 
heavens were of that deep transparent purple-black that 
only summer skies over summer seas ever show. Brighter 
than diamonds the stars shone down, creating the darkly- 
brilliant light so much more beautiful than moonbeams. 
The night was holy. How could thoughts of sin, feelings 
of revenge, purposes of destruction live in the soul of any 
man gazing out upon the divine beauty of the sky and 
sea ? 

Ah, but Alexander was morally and spiritually ill and 
insane. He could scarcely be said to belong to the natural 
world. His spirit seemed already steeped to the lips in 
that sea of blood seen by the poet-prophet of Italy in his 
vision of Hell. 

How shall he be cured and saved ? 

And yet he was not unconscious, although he was unim- 
pressed by the beauty of the night. 

The deck was almost solitary j the passengers had gone 


THE DUEL. 


823 


below and turned in, many of them suffering more or less 
from the effects of sea-sickness ; for the boat rolled a little, 
as small steamboats will roll even on the smoothest seas. 
No one was left on deck except the man at the wheel, the 
oflScers of the watch, and Alexander Lyon and Francis 
Tredegar. 

Francis sauntered up and down the starboard gangway, 
smoking his cigar, which, at this hour and under these 
circumstances, was admissible, and meditating most proba- 
bly on 4;he coming events that now “ cast their shadows 
before.’’ 

Francis had no such deep stake in the event as had 
Alexander, for his life was not to be risked, yet not the less 
was his spirit darkened within him. He, too, saw the 
star-spangled firmament above and the smooth sea below, 
reflecting it as a mirror ; but he could not enjoy the vision 
as once he might have. The crime, the folly of which 
he had been tempted to become a participant was not yet 
consummated, but yet he felt that some portion of his own 
soul was already dead, or paralyzed, so that he could not 
feel the heavenly influence of the scene around him. How 
should he ? 

Alexander stood leaning over the bulwarks of the boat, 
gazing moodily out to sea. I said he was not unconscious 
of the divine beauty of the night, although he was un- 
touched by it. He saw the glory of the firnament, but as 
something afar off, which could not reach him, and which 
he could not reach ; but he remembered also that in happier 
times his spirit was touched, drawn out, elevated, by this 
heavenly influence. Why could it not affect him now ? 
Why was the divine loveliness beaming down upon this 
natural world, so silent, cold and still for him ? Why was 
the living spirit of the night but a dead body for him ? 

Alas ! he knew and felt why. He was a man who had 
ruined his natural life, and all but ruined his immortal spirit. 


824 


THE bride’s fate. 


He had sped too fast and too far on the downward road to 
perdition to stop himself now. He was like one who, run- 
ning rapidly down hill, has gained such an impetus that he 
cannot stop, though he knows that he rushes to death and 
hell. Alexander knew and felt that duelling was unjusti- 
fiable under any circumstances — that it was a tremendous 
crime — a doubly damnable crime, since it involved at once 
murder and suicide of body and of soul — perhaps the very 
worst of crimes ; and yet he was bent upon committing it, 
even though, in doing so, he should lose both body and 
soul. 

The night seemed endless, and the sea boundless, to 
this sick spirit ; yet just as the watch sounded eight bells 
and midnight, the boat entered the picturesque harbor of 
St. Aubins, and soon after landed at the wharf. 

There was something more than picturesque, there was 
something mysterious and even spiritual in the aspect of 
this singular little maritime town, as seen for the first time 
in the starlight midnight, overshadowed by its background 
of Hoirmont Heights, and reflected with its few gleaming 
lights in the still waters of its quiet little harbor — St. 
Aubins ! it is a place for a tired spirit to stop and rest in. 

The hour was not yet so late but that some of the hotels 
were open, especially as they were expecting the arrival of 
the boat. 

Our passengers landed. Some few carriages were wait- 
ing, probably by appointment. Prince Ernest and his suite 
entered one of these and drove off. 

Alexander, accompanied by Francis Tredegar, and follow- 
ed by his servant bearing the carpet bags, walked dreamily 
up into tlie town, and took the direction pointed out to him 
towards the St. Aubins’ hotel. 

In fact, all his life now seemed something unreal, vision- 
ary, delirious as a fevered dream. 

Arrived at the hotel, they first saw the empty carriage of 


THE DUEL. 


825 


Prince Ernest turning away from the door, and they knew 
as a certainty what they had before taken for granted — that 
their adversaries were stopping at the same house, which 
was far the best in the place. 

They took a suite of rooms, including a private parlor and 
two bed chambers. 

We will have a bit of supper up here and then to work,” 
said Francis Tredegar, touching the hell. Francis was 
now the only active agent in the enterprize. 

The waiter answered his summons. 

“ Supper immediately. Anything in the world that you 
have handiest, with a bottle of good sherry,” was Mr. 
Tredegar’s orders. 

The waiter disappeared and re-appeared several times 
with great rapidity, in course of which evolutions he spread 
the table with a white cloth, and with crockery ware, cutlery 
and glass, and loaded it with cold ham, roast fowl, and a 
salad, together with the bottle of wine that had been be- 
spoken. 

Alexander and Francis sat down and ate and drank as 
other travellers might who had no murder’ on their mind. 
They spoke no word of the impending duel. 

When supper was over and the cloth removed, Francis 
Tredegar turned to his principal and said : 

Now you will wish to feel well and strong to-morrow 
morning. You have lost a great deal of rest lately, and 
will require all the sleep that you can get to restore you. 
So you had better go to bed at once, and lie there till I call 
you. I will he sure to call you two hours before the time 
that shall be fixed for the meeting.” 

‘^And you, Francis ? Will you not take some rest?” 

^^No, it is not so necessary for me. I must meet Zollen- 
hoffen by appointment to settle the last — the final arrange- 
ments — such as could not possibly be settled before our 
arrival here.” 


826 


THE BRIDES FATE. 


<< Well, you will call me in time ? ” 

Certainly.” 

Alexander retired to his chamber, and Francis Trede^ 
gar went out to keep his appointment on what might be 
called neutral ground — in a room, namely, far removed 
from the quarters of the principal belligerents, and which 
the seconds had engaged for the purpose of settling the 
final preliminaries to the hostile meeting. 

The night watch of the hotel could have told, and after- 
wards did tell, how these two men had shut themselves up 
together in a private room, where they remained from one 
o’clock, till half past two, when they came out together, 
locked the door, took the key with them, left the house, and 
bent their steps towards the gloomy heights of Koirmont 
that lay behind the town ; and how at about four o’clock 
they returned, and separated, each going to his own apart- 
ment. 

Certainly at about a quarter past four Mr. Tredegar en- 
tered Alexander’s chamber, where he found his principal 
tossing about on the bed in a feverish and impatient manner. 

“ Have you slgpt ? ” inquired Francis. 

Slept ? How could I ? Is it time to rise ? ” 

«Yes.” 

I am very glad of it,” exclaimed Alexander, .jumping 
out of bed. 

You have rather more than two hours before you, if you 
have any last preparations to make,” said Francis, gravely. 

I have nothing to do but shave, wash and dress.” 

“ But — ” said Francis, sadly. 

tell you I have no other preparations to make. Hav- 
ing settled my worldly affairs, I have no other preparations 
to make. What should I have ? ” emphatically exclaimed 
Alexander. 

What, indeed ? How could the duellist prepare for pro- 
bable death ? The Christian soldier going into battle, or 
upon a forlorn hope, in a righteous cause, can invoke the 


THE DUEL. 


327 


lilessing of God on his arms, and can commit his soul, foi 
life or death, into His holy keeping. Yes, even the con- 
demned criminal, however deeply steeped in guilt, can 
kneel and pray for mercy and forgiveness, for acceptance 
and admission into Heaven. These can prepare to meet 
their God. 

But how can the determined duellist prepare for death ? 
Can he pray for pardon for past sins when he is about to 
commit the last, the greatest, the deadliest sin of his life ? 
No, he goes to his fatal work grimly defying man and God, 
death and hell. 

You have fixed upon the ground ? ” inquired Alexan- 
der, as he brushed his hair, calmly and carefully, as for an 
evening party, for he had suddenly recovered all his self- 
posSession. 

Yes ; it is a small secluded spot at the foot of Noirmont 
Heights, to which I shall conduct you.” 

“ And the time ? ” 

Six. The carriage is ordered at half-past five.” 

Very well. There are but a few moments left ; so much 
the better,” said Alexander, as he finished his toilet. 

When they went into their private parlor, they found hot 
coffee waiting them, thanks to the careful forethought of 
Francis Tredegar. 

When they had finished their coffee the carriage was 
announced, and they arose. 

I have laid the train so that the coachman, and even 
the servants, think we are a party of geologists going to the 
mountain to search for geological specimens. They will 
take our pistol-case for a box of tools and think all right,” 
explained Francis Tredegar, as they descended the stairs. 

“ Then, to complete the ruse, we must leave the cab at 
some short distance from the duelling ground.” 

‘‘ Of course. And still more to guard against suspicion 
and interruption, Prince Ernest and his attendants start aa 


828 


THE bride’s fate 


if for a jcjurney, make a slight detour, and approach th® 
place of meeting from another direction,” answered Francis. 

The morning was fresh and bright. The sun was, per- 
haps, an hour high when Alexander Lyon and Francis 
Tredegar entered their carriage. Simms, the valet, mounted 
the box and seated himself beside the coachman. And 
in this manner they were driven out towards Noirmont 
Heights. 

When they arrived at the foot of the mountain, Francis 
Tredegar ordered the carriage to draw up. 

Give me that box of tools, Simms. We shall find some 
valuable specimens of sienites on the other side of the moun- 
tain,” said Francis Tredegar, in a rather loud voice intend- 
ed to be heard by the coachman, as the party alighted from 
the carriage. 

*‘Wait for us here. We may be gone some hours, but 
don’t leave the spot,” he added, as he led the way, followed 
by Alexander and his servant, around a projecting rock, to 
a retired spot, shut off from observation by surrounding 
precipices. 

As they entered the place at one end. Prince Ernest and 
his party were seen to come in at the other. 

Each adversary, with his attendants, paused. 

The prince was attended by his second, his surgeon and 
his servant. 

Alexander had only his friend and his valet. 

Major Zollenhoffar and Mr. Tredegar drew out from their 
respective groups, and met in the centre of the ground. 
There, for the last time, they conferred upon the possibility 
of an amicable settlement of the difficulty. But the im- 
practicability of reconciling the adversaries consisted in this 
— .that each of the adversaries deemed himself the injured, 
insulted, outraged party, who was entitled to an humble 
npology from the other, or in want of that the satisfaction 
of a gentleman ” — which usually means an ounce of lead in 


THE DUEL. 


829 


his body or fellow-creature’s blood upon bis soul. Each was 
willing to receive an apology, instead of a bullet; but 
neither would hear of making the slightest concession. 

When the proposition was made to Alexander, be simply 
turned away his pallid face in cold and silent scorn. 

When it was made to Prince Ernest, the excitable Aus- 
trian jumped three feet from the ground and swore that he 
would have “one grawnd sat-ees-fac-shee-on.” 

The quarrel having proved irreconcilable, the last prepar- 
ations were made for the duel. 

The ground was stepped off, and the foes were placed by 
their respective seconds at ten paces from each other- 
standing due north and south, with the advantage of the 
light equally divided between them ; the insulted sun 
being just above the mountains due east, and shining down 
full upon the duelling ground. Major Zollenholfar had the 
choice of the four pair of pistols provided. Francis Trede- 
gar was to give the signals. 

Having placed and armed their principals, and taken 
position on opposite sides of the line of fire, and about 
midway between them, and aH being ready, Francis Trede- 
gar looked from one to the other. He saw that Alexander 
Lyon was pale as death, but still as marble, steady as a 
statue ; and that Prince Ernest was fiery red, but in other 
respects appeared as calm as his adversary. 

Put Francis Tredegar himself grew very pale as the fatal 
moment approached. His voice sounded hollow and un- 
natural, as he began : 

“ Gentlemen, are you ready ! ” 

A dread pause and a silent assent, or an assent taken for 
granted. 

“ One ! ” *• 

And at the signal the foes raised their pistols. 

“ Two ! ” 

They took deliberate aim. 


830 


THE bride’s Fate# 


<< Three ! ” 

They kept them so. 

« FIRE ! » 

They discharged their pistols and Alexanier Lyon fell. 

The impulsive Austrian threw down his weapon and, re- 
gardless of etiquette, ran over to raise his fallen foe. 

Alexander was still alive when they raised him. There 
was a convulsive shuddering of the form — a nervous quiv- 
ering of the face — a gasp — ^‘Drusilla ! and all was still as 
death. 

Prince Ernest had his grand satisfaction. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE GRAND SATISFACTION. 

Naught’s had, all’s spent 

When our desires are gained without content.— SHAEsrsAEB. 

The grand satisfaction was received ; but it did not 
prove so highly satisfactory after all. Grand satisfactions 
seldom do. 

Prince Ernest raised his fallen foe in his arms, supported 
him upon his bosom and gazed on his upturned, pallid face 
in pity and distress. 

“ Quick ! you come hither, monsieur ! Quick ! you come 
hither. Doctor Dietz ! ” he called hastily to his own surgeon, 
who with the two seconds and the valet were hurrying to 
the spot. 

‘^Good Heaven! he is killed!” cried Francis Tredegar, 
throwing himself down in a kneeling posture beside his 
friend and relieving Prince Ernest of the weight of the 
body. 

Doctor Dietz dropped on his knee on the other side and 


THE GRAND SATISFACTION. 831 


"began hastily to unloosen the clothes and examine the con- 
dition of the wounded man. 

Major Zollenhoffar bent sadly over the group. 

Simms, the valet, stood gaping and staring in speechless 
consternation. 

The impulsive Austrian skipped around the circle, acting 
in his distress more like an excitable dancing master than 
an accomplished Prince. 

Each face was as pale as the bloodless face below them ; 
for these were not the times of war, and the men were not 
inured to sudden and violent death. 

At length the surgeon looked up from his examination. 

“ Is he quite dead ? Is there not the slightest hope ? ” 
anxiously inquired Francis Tredegar. 

He is not dead,” said Dr. Dietz. Then turning to 
Major Zollenhoffar, he requested — “ Monsieur, oblige me ; 
send some one to the carriage for my case of instruments.” 

I will go myself,” answered the major, hurrying off. 

Monsieur, you do the favor ; send your servant for the 
water,” said Doctor Dietz, turning again to Francis. 

Hasten, Simms ! There is a hut around the projection 
of that rock. Go there and procure some vessel and fill it at 
the nearest spring and hurry back with it as fast as possi- 
ble,” ordered Francis, speaking eagerly while he still sup- 
ported the almost lifeless form of his friend. 

Simms ran off at the height of his speed to get the water. 
And all this while Prince Ernest skipped about giving vent 
to his lamentations, and declaiming in his excitement, 
without his usually careful regard to the construction of the 
English language. 

“ My Heaven ! I shall wish to kill him not ! I know not 
what he quarrel with me because ! what he insult me ! 
what he defy me ! what he shoot me because — I know not 
— I — ! A fair woman shall give me her bouquet to hold, 
to keep, to cherish! Why not? I am the slave of the 


332 


THE BKIDE's fate. 


fair woman ! I take her bouquet ! It is sweet, it is fresh, 
it is precious like herself! I press it to my lips I I put it 
to my heart I Why not ? Wliat wrong I do that he shall 
charge me ? shall accuse me ? shall shoot me ! ’’ he 
exclaimed, jumping about, gesticulating, and making such 
havoc of English auxiliary verbs as even the best-read for- 
eigners may sometimes do when speaking rapidly and 
excitedly. 

“ Lay your friend down flat upon his back — I wish to 
probe his wound,’’ said Dr. Dietz to Erancis Tredegar, as 
he saw Major Zollenhofiar running towards them, with his 
case of instruments. 

Erancis Tredegar slowly eased the body down upon the 
level ground, and then gently drew his hand from under 
the head. 

As he did so, he uttered a cry of horror. 

What is it ? ” demanded the doctor. 

Erancis held up the palm of his hand, which was crim- 
son with clotted blood. 

Where did that come from ? ” asked the doctor. 

“ Erom the back of his head. Oh, he is quite dead, or 
must be soon ! He is shot through the brain ! ” exclaimed 
Erancis in great distress. 

Impossible 1 ” cried the doctor. 

“ No, no, no I ” exclaimed Prince Ernest, vehemently. 

I shall not shoot him through the brain ! I shall not 
aim at his head at all I I shall aim at his right arm 1 I 
shall not wish to kill him, only to punish him ! I shall 
aim at his right arm, but I shall shoot him through the 
right side ! It shall be a chance, an accident, a misfor- 
tune ! I meant it not — not I ! ” 

While the Austrian was skipping and exclaiming, the 
surgeon was examining the back of Alexander’s head. 
3die hair was matted with blood from a deep wound there. 

“ Y ou see it is as I say — the ball has passed quite 


THE GRAND SATISFACTION. 833 

through his head, and come out here,” said Francis Trede- 
gar. 

Impossible ! The hall entered the right side of the 
chest, passed through the right lobe of the lungs, and is 
lodged here below the right shoulder-blade. See for your- 
self!” said the surgeon, laying back Alexander’s shirt- 
bosom, so as to show the small, dark, inverted hole at 
which the bullet had entered. 

“ But this wound in the back of his head — ? ” 

Was made by his falling and striking some hard, sharp 
substance — a fragment of rock, probably.” 

While the surgeon spoke he was not idle. He took his 
case of instruments from on© assistant and the water from 
the other. 

He carefully cut away the blood-clotted hair, and washed 
and plastered the wound in the head ; and then he cut out 
the bullet, which lay little more than skin-deep under the 
shoulder blade. He dressed the wounds as well as circum- 
stances would permit, and then he said : 

“We had better take your friend back to his apartments 
at the hotel. I will continue to give him my best caro 
there.” 

Francis Tredegar assented. 

Simms was once more dispatched to the hut to borrow its 
only door, and when he returned he not only brought the 
door, but was followed by the kind-hearted master of the 
hut, bringing a load of blankets. With these materials a 
rude litter was constructed, and upon it Alexander’s form 
was laid. And thus he was borne upon the shoulders of 
Simms the valet, Knox the hutter, and two laboring men 
who came and offered their services. 

Prince Ernest returned to the hotel in his carriage. Ma- 
jor Zollenhoffar and Francis Tredegar walked behind the 
bearers of the wounded man. 

Alexander’s cab went back empty. 


884 


THE bride’s fate. 


I say,” said the hotel servants to the cabman as soon as 
they saw him, ^^you took a party of gents out to the moun- 
tains to look for minerals, didn’t you ? ” 

“ Yfts,” growled the Jehu. 

Well, and they found ’em — at least one of ’em did, — a 
beautiful round specimen of lead mineral ; and he. liked it 
so well he put it into his bosom. But I’m told it didn’t 
agree with him ! ” 

Alexander was carefully carried to his chamber and laid 
upon his bed. 

Around him stood Dr. Dietz, Mr. Tredegar, John Simms, 
and one or two of the servants of the hotel. 

In this more favorable position, his wounds were more 
carefully examined and skillfully dressed. Both wounds 
were found to be very serious. 

He was relieved of his blood-stained garments and put into 
a clean suit of under clothes, and again laid back upon his 
pillow. 

During this process he had given but few signs of con- 
sciousness — only groaning slightly when being moved, as 
if motion distressed his lacerated chest. 

And then the room was darkened. 

Now let him rest quietly,” said Doctor Dietz. 

But will you not give him something ? ” inquired 
Francis Tredegar. 

«No.” 

No opiate ? ” 

Certainly not.” 

No anodyne ? ” 

Nothing, Let him rest for the present, only renew, as 
they become heated, the cold water compresses on his 
wounds.” 

Francis Tredegar constituted himself head nurse, and 
seated himself beside his patient. 

Major Zollenhoffar entered the room. 


THE JAAND SATISFACTION. 


835 


** Prince Ernest leaves by the ten o’clock boat for South- 
ampton ; but wishes to knew the state of the gentleman 
before he goes,” whispered the Major to Mr. Tredegar. 

“ I was about to go and report to the Prince,” said Dr. 
Dietz. 

“ His Highness requests that you will not leave your 
charge so long, as he may require your assistance. His 
Highness will dispense with your services about his own 
person for the present. But he requests that you will keep 
him informed of the progress of your patient,” said Major 
Zollenhoffar. 

The surgeon bowed low in acquiescence with the prince’s 
behests. 

‘‘I hope this arrangement may meet your approbation, 
sir,” said the Major, courteously turning towards Mr. Tred- 
egar. 

“ It excites my gratitude, sir,” replied Francis Tredegar. 
** It excites my warmest gratitude. We could not probably 
find such surgical skill for ourselves.” 

With another bow and an earnestly expressed hope that 
the wounded man might yet do well, the Major took leave, 
and returned to his master, leaving the patient in charge 
of Doctor Dietz, Francis Tredegar and Simms. 

Within an hour Prince Ernest and all his suite, except 
his surgeon, embarked for England. 

And we must return to General Lyon and Dick Ham- 
mond. 


836 


THE bride’s FAtK 


CHAPTER XXVL 

THE PURSUIT. 

The distant danger grealer still appears; 

Less fears he, who is near the thing he fears. 

With many imprecations on the rashness and folly of 
young men in general and of his own nephew in particu- 
lar, the veteran accompanied by Dick, took his seat in the 
three o’clock train for Southampton. 

He did not consider it necessary to take a whole first 
class carriage for himself and his companion, so the pres- 
ence of several other travellers in the same compartment 
with him, restrained his growling. 

And soon after the train started, the motion of the car- 
riages rocked him to sleep, and he slept soundly until they 
reached their journey’s end. 

Dick, who had alternately read the morning’s papers, and 
dozed through the journey, woke his uncle up as the train 
entered the Southampton station, where the duellists had 
passed about ten hours before. 

It was nearly seven o’clock. 

Here we are ! ” said Dick, gathering up his light lug- 
gage, while his uncle slowly rubbed his eyes and looked 
about him. 

<< Eh ? well ! yes ! I suppose we had better call a cab 
and drive to a hotel and engage rooms first of all,” said 
the general, still rubbing his eyes, and being only half 
awake. 

I suppose we had better call a cab and drive immedi- 
ately down to the docks and see if we can hire a yacht or 
steamboat to take us to Guernsey,” suggested Dick. 

Oh ! aye ! yes ! certainly ! to be sure ! I had forgot- 
ten,” exclaimed the general. 


THE PURSUl T. 


337 


The guard unlocked the door to let them out. 

As they appeared upon the platform, the two detectives 
who had come down with them joined company. 

“ Call a cab, Willet, if you please. We will go at once 
to the docks and try to engage a vessel of some kind to 
take us to Guernsey.’’ 

Yes, sir ; but if you please, I think we had better call 
first at Police head-quarters to make inquiries. They may 
have some -later and better intelligence,” suggested the 
detective. 

“ Exactly ! yes ! to be sure ! You are quite right. We 
will go there first,” agreed the general. 

The detective beckoned the cab and gave the order, and 
they all got into it and drove to police head-quarters. 

Willet, who had ridden beside the cabman, got down and 
went in to seek farther information. 

He was gone but a few moments, and then he returned 
and opened the door of the cab and spoke to the general. 

“ It is very lucky we called here first, sir j else we might 
have been fatally misled.” 

Why ? what’s the matter ? ” inquired the general. 

“There was a mistake in the telegram, sir. It was not 
to Guernsey they went, but to J ersey.” 

“ Tut, tut, that w^as a very unlucky mistake, and might 
have proved to be a fatal one, as you said. Are you cer- 
tain now of your information ? ” 

“Quite certain, sir. The duellists took the St Aubins 
steamer and sailed for that port at eleven this morning. 
As soon as the office here discovered their mistake, they 
telegraphed the correction to London. But of course we 
had left before that second telegram arrived.” 

“ Have you any farther information ? ” inquired Dick. 

“Hone whatever.” 

“Then we must drive to the docks immediately,” ordered 
the general. 


838 


the bride’s fate. 


The detective mounted the box beside the cabman and 
transmitted the order. 

And they were driven rapidly down to the docks. 

They alighted and went about making diligent inquiries 
for a vessel. 

fortune favored them, or rather Money did. Money is a 
great magician. No wonder it is sometimes fatally mis- 
taken for a god, and more fatally worshipped as one. 

In answer to their inquiries, they were told of a swift- 
sailing, schooner-rigged j’^acht, owned by a company that 
were in the habit of letting it out to parties of pleasure for 
excursions to the channel isles or along the coast. And 
they were directed to the spot where the “Flying Foam” 
lay idly at anchor, and were told that the master of the 
crew was also the agent of the company. 

Encouraged by this information, our party engaged a 
row-boat, and went out into the harbor, and boarded the 
“ Fljing Foam.” 

The master happened to be on deck. He came forward 
to meet the boarding-party. 

“ Is this yacht disengaged ? ” inquired the general. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Can we engage it for immediate service ? ” 

“For immediate service — that is very sudden, sir? ” re- 
marked the master, looking suspiciously at the speaker. 

“I know it is, but so is our business sudden, being a 
matter of life and death. We cannot wait for the sailing 
of the steamer. But we are willing to pay extra price for 
extra haste,” replied the general. 

And there was that about his stately form and fine face, 
and martial manner w'hich rebuked the suspicion, while the 
words, and particular!}’’ the promise of extra pay appealed 
to the interest of the agent. 

“ You want the yacht immediately, you say, sir ? ” he 
inquired. 


THE PURSUIT. 


839 


Immediately, or as soon as the tide will serve.” 

The tide will serve in half an hour, sir.” 

“ Can she be got ready ? ” 

For what port, sir ? ” 

“St. Aubins.” 

The master rubbed his forehead and looked down at nis 
slioes, as if in deep cogitation. 

“ My friend, while you are deliberating, time is flying,” 
said the general impatiently. 

“ She can be got ready fast enough, sir. It isn’t that. 
Why, sir, you are strangers to us, and we don’t know any- 
thing of what you are in such a hurry for.” 

“We go to arrest a party, and prevent a duel, if you 
must know ! ” exclaimed the general, impatiently disre- 
garding the signals of the detective, who would have cau- 
tioned him. 

“ Oh ! beg pardon, sir ; but this is — is going to cost a 
pretty penny — and — ” 

“ And you don’t feel safe as to the payment, eh ? If 
that is all, you may weigh anchor and hoist sail at once, for 
I have not come unprovided,” said General Lyon, taking 
out his pocket-book and displaying a large roll of hundred 
pound Bank of England notes. 

“ You do not suspect them t© he counterfeits, I hope ? ” 
laughed the general. 

** Oh, no ! beg pardon, sir. It is all right now. I am 
only an agent, sir, and held responsible by my employers.” 

“ To be sure. And now I hope you can set your crew to 
work.” 

“Are you going just as you are, sir? Would you like 
to go on shore first ? ” 

“ We have no time to lose in going on shore. We shall 
go to St. Aubins just as we are. I suppose there are shops 
in that town where one may procure the necessaries of 
life ? ” 


840 


THE bride’s fate. 


certainly, sir.” 

And the captain of the yacht went aft and called all 
Jiands on deck, and gave his orders, and, hy dint of loud 
hallooing and hard swearing, got them so promptly executed 
that when the tide turned the yacht sailed. 

The}’’ had a very fine run under the starlit sky over the 
calm sea ; hut for the painful errand they would have heeu 
a party of pleasure. Even as it was, they enjoyed the trip. 
There was nothing on General Lyon’s conscience, or cn 
Dick’s mind, to deaden either of them to the heavenly 
beauty of the night. They had slept on the train, and so 
now they were wide awake on the yacht. 

They walked up and down the deck talking sociably 
with each other, admiring the elegant form and the swift 
sailing of the yacht, delighting in the fresh breezes of the 
ocean, and almost worshiping the glory of the star-spangled 
heavens. 

They walked up and down fore and aft, while the yacht 
sped over the waters, until they became hungry, and then 
they remembered for the first time that they had had 
neither dinner nor tea, nor had brought any provisions for a 
meal on board. 

“ It is usual for parties who hire a yacht to find their own 
grub, I believe, and we never thought of doing it,” said 
Dick. 

We had no time for doing it,” said the general. 

Well, I fancy the master does not keep a black fast. 
He must have a secret store somewhere, so I will just step 
and see.” 

And Dick went in search of the master, who undertook 
to be their host for the voyage. 

In twenty minutes after, the voyagers were called to supper 
in the captain’s cabin — and to such a supper for hungry 
men ! There were pickled salmon, cold ham, cold chicken, 
an excellent salad, light bread, Stilton cheese, pastry, frr.its. 


THE PUR SUIT. 841 

native and tropical, and such fine wines as can only be pro- 
cured — or could then only be procured, duty free, at the 
Channel Isles. 

They made an excellent meal, and then returned to 
the deck and sat down to enjoy the lovely night and 
the pure sea-breezes, nntil twelve midnight, when, feel- 
ing a little tired, they went down into the cabin and 
turned in. 

Kocked by the motion of the vessel they fell asleep, 
and slept soundly nntil the “ Flying Foam ” entered the 
harbor of St. Aubins. 

Then they were awakened by the captain’s steward, 
who came down to tell them the yacht was in port. The 
sun was just rising. 

The pretty little maritime town lay gleaming in the 
earliest beams of the morning. Behind it arose the dark 
background of FToirmont Heights. On the right and left, 
rolled a richly- wooded landscape of hill and dell. 

Even the gravity of the errand upon which they had 
come could not quite make our friends insensible to the 
novelty and beauty of the scene. 

^^AVill you choose to have breakfast before you go on 
shore ? ” inquired the master, coming to the side of the two 
gentlemen, as they stood on deck looking out upon the har- 
bor, with its little shipping, and the town, with its quaint 
Anglo-French streets and houses, while they waited for the 
boat to be got ready. 

Breakfast ? Ho, thank you, not even if it was on the 
table ; for there, I think our boat is ready now,” answered 
the general. 

And he went to the side of the yacht, and followed by 
Dick and the two, detectives, descended into the boat. 

They were rapidly rowed to the shore. 

There were no cabs in sight. 

What is to be done now ? ” inquired the generaL 


842 


THE bride’s fate. 


There is nothing for it, hut to walk up into the town, 
and over it, if necessary,’’ answered Dick. 

Luckily for us all, that may be done without much 
bodily fatigue. It is not a very large place,” remarked the 
general. 

, “ If you please, gentlemen, I think we had better look 
for our men at the hotels. It is still so early that they 
can scarcely have started on their duelling adventure,” sug- 
gested one of the detectives. 

Lead the way, then. You know the town, I think you 
told me,” said the general. 

Oh, yes, sir,” answered the detective, bending his steps 
towards the princijjal hotel. 

While they were yet at some distance from the house, 
they saw a carriage drive off from before it. Slight as the 
circumstance was in itself, when considered in relation to 
the hour and other circumstances, it seemed very significant. 
So they hurried on. 

Before they reached the house, however, they saw another 
carriage draw up before the entrance, and a party come out 
and enter it ; and then they saw the carriage drive off, but 
not in the same direction taken by the first one. 

There are our duellists ! ” exclaimed the detective in 
triumph, one party is in the first carriage, and the other 
in the second.” 

“ But they took opposite directions,” gasped the general, 
out of breath with his rapid walk. 

That was to mislead people. They have taken opposite, 
but each will make a half circle and meet on the appointed 
ground unless we stop them,” said Willet, striding onwards 
at a rate that made it difficult for his companions to keep 
up with him. 

I do not see how we are to stop it now,” groaned the 
general. 

We must take a cab from the hotel, and make what in- 


THE PURSUIT 343 

quiries as to the route taken the others that we have 
time for.” 

While talking, they had hurried on -with all their might, 
and now they were at the hotel. 

Is Prince Ernest of Hohenlinden stopping here ? ’’ 
inquired the general, stepping at once up to the office. 

There is a foreigner of rank who arrived here late last 
night bj’’ the Southampton steamer.” 

Where is he now ? ” 

Gone out for a morning ride by the sea, I think.” 

Ah ! you have other travellers here who arrived by the 
Southampton boat ? ” 

Yes ; an American gentleman, I think, a scientific man 
who has gone out with his servant to hunt for minerals in 
the Noirmont Heights.” 

Ah ! a scientific man in search of minerals ! ” grunted 
the general. 

‘^ By the way, there were two of them, they ” 

Oh, two of them, were they ! Master and pupil, very 
likely ; or principal and second.” 

They took with them a servant carrying a box of 
tools.” 

Ah ! hum ! yes ! a box of tools ! Bless my life, I won- 
der when that cab will be ready! Ah, here he comes,” 
impatiently exclaimed General Lyon, as Willet, who had 
gone after the cab, entered and reported it was ready. 

The whole party entered the cab except one of the de- 
tectives, who, as usual, rode on the box beside the driver. 
This officer gave, as a general direction, the nearest route 
to Noirmont Heights. And the cabman took it. 

As they left the town the detective farther ordered : 

When we reach the foot of the heights, inquire for a 
cab that passed some twenty minutes before us ; and then 
follow the road taken by that cab until you come up with 
it” 


344 THE bride’s fate. 

The ('ahman touched his hat in acquiescence as they went 
on. 

Just at that instant the report of fire-arms startled their 
ears, reverberating through the heights and echoed and 
re-echoed back from rock to rock. 

My ! we are too late ! ” exclaimed the general, in 

despair. 

“ Indeed I fear we are too late to prevent the duel, hut 
we may be in time to succor the wounded,” added Dick. 

Can you see the smoke from that discharge of pistols ? ” 
inquired the detective on the box of the cabman beside 
him. 

Ho, sir, and if I could it would he hard to tell it now 
from the smoke of the butters’ chimneys, or even from the 
mist of the morning.” 

“ Drive then in the direction from which the report 
came.” 

^^But, sir,' it echoes so through the crags, it’s a’most im- 
possible to tell which w^ay it did come from. All we can 
know now is, as how it came from among the rocks.” 

Willet knew that the cabman was riglit, since he was 
sure that he himself could get no correct clue to the 
route from either the sound or the smoke of the firing. 

Look out for the cab then and do the best you can. 
We wish to come up with that firing party.” 

All right, sir,” said the cabman. 

But in fact it seemed all wrong. They kept a bright 
lookout for the cab, hoping, though it was now probably 
empty, to be directed by its driver to the duelling ground. 
But many roads traversed these mountain solitudes, and 
their number and intricacies were confusing. Our party 
drove on to some distance farther, but saw no cab and heard 
no more firing. 

Then they turned back and struck into a cross-road and 
pursued it for some distance with no better success. Again 


THE PURSUIT. 


345 


they turned from their course, came hack upon the main 
road and took the opposite branch of the cross-road and 
followed it some distance, but in vain. Finally in despair 
they turned their horses’ heads towards the town, the gen- 
eral saying : 

It is all over by this time ; and dead or alive, they 
have left the ground, and we shall have a better chance of 
hearing of them at the hotel than elsewhere.” 

As they drove rapidly towards the town they came upon 
a group of laborers eagerly talking together by the road- 
side. 

What is the matter ? What has happened ? Where 
was that firing?” inquired General Lyon, putting his 
head out of the window, as the cab drew up. 

“Why, your honor, there have been a row on the heights 
back there, among some gents, and one of um have been 
shot and carried to the hotel down yonder in the town ; 
and t’other one is took and locked up,” answered one of 
the laborers, with the usual mixture of truth and falsehood. 

“Which was shot?” inquired the detective. 

“Why, that I can’t say ; but any ways it was one of um 
as was shot and brought home on a door, and t’other one 
was took and locked up.” 

“ Was the man who was shot killed ? ” anxiously inquired 
General Lyon. 

“Well, your honor, ^when the brains is out the man is 
dead,’ ” replied the peasant, unconsciously quoting Shakes- 
peare. 

General Lyon sank back in his chair with a deep groan. 
One of the duellists was killed. Whether it was Prince 
Ernest or Alexander Lyon, whether his nephew was the 
murderer or the murdered man, the event was fatal. 

“ Drive as rapidly as possible back to the hotel,” said the 
detective on the box to the driver by his side. 

And they were whirled swiftly as horses could go, to the 
St. Aubins hotel. 


346 


THE bride’s fate. 


There all was bustle. A duel was not such a common 
event as to be passed over lightly. 

General Lyon sprang out of his cab with almost the 
agility of youth, and hurried into the office to make inqui- 
ries of the clerk. 

What man was that who was shot ? he shortly asked. 

“ The American, sir j but it is hoped he will do well 
yet.” 

He is not dead ? ” 

^^Ho, sir, surely not.” 

“ Thank Heaven for that ! And the other one ? ” 

“ The prince ? He was not hurt, sir.” 

Thank Heaven for that also ! ” 

They were the parties you were looking for this morn- 
ing, were they not ? ” 

Certainly. I had ascertained their object in coming 
here, and hoped to be in time to stop them. Where have 
they put my nephew ? ” 

Beg pardon, sir ? ” 

The wounded man ; where have they put him ? ’’ 

In his own room, sir.” 

Send a waiter to show me to his bedside. I am his 
uncle.” ( 

Indeed, sir ? Certainly, sir. Come here, John. Show 
this gentleman to Humber 10.” 

A waiter stepped forward at the order, bowed and led 
the way followed by the general, up one flight of stairs, 
along a corridor, and to a chamber door. 

This is Humber 10, sir,” John said, opening the door. 

The veteran entered the room, and found himself face to 
face with Francis Tredegar, who had risen to see who the 
intruder might be. 

“ General Lyon ! ” 

Mr. Tredegar ! ” 

Such were the simultaneous exclamations of the friends 
on so unexpectedly meeting. 


THE PURSUIT. 


347 


‘‘You here!” 

“ I came with Lord Killcrichtoun.” 

How is he ? ” 

“The surgeon reports favorably of his wounds, hut he 
must be kept very quiet. Will you pass with me into the 
sitting-room ? — Simms, do not leave your master’s side 
until I return. — This way, general,” said Francis Tredegar, 
rising and opening a door, leading into their private parlor. 

There the friends sat down together, — the general heated 
and anxious, Francis Tredegar surprised and curious. 

“ I followed as quickly as I could after hearing of my 
nephew’s mad purpose. I hired a yacht and pursued him, 
hoping to be in time to save him. I wish now that I had 
hired a special train from London. It would have given 
me three hours advance, and I should then have been in 
time,” groaned the general, wiping his face. 

“ Take comfort, sir. It might have had a fatal termina- 
tion. As it is, we have reason to thank Heaven for an un- 
merited mercy. Prince Ernest has escaped unhurt, and 
has returned to England. Lord Killcrichtoun is wounded, 
but not fatally. ‘ All’s well that ends well.’ ” 

“ ‘ That ends well 1 ’ Yes, but who can say that this will 
end well ? Oh, Heaven, how much trouble that young 
man has caused me and all who are dear to ine ! But he 
is my only brother’s only son 1 my dead brother’s only 
child ! and in spite of all I have said and sworn I must try 
to save him.” 

“ Is he so near of kin to you, sir ? I had not suspected 
it.” 

“ No ; his new ridiculous title, together with the 
estrangement that has been between us, would naturally 
mislead any one who had not known us previously as to 
the facts of our kinship. You came with him on this 
Quixotic adventure ? ” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Francis Tredegar, blushing and 


348 


THE bride’s fate. 


beginning to defend himself before the Christian ioldier. 

Yes, sir j after having tried in vain to dissuade my friend 
from the duel, I resolved to see him through it.’’ 

am not intending to blame you, my young friend. 
To me, certainly, you meant no wrong ; and to my unhappy 
nephew only kindness. For the rest, it is a matter between 
yourself and your own conscience. As for me, in the way 
of a soldier’s duty, I have been in some battles ; but I 
would not, nor do I remember any period of my youth in 
which I would have engaged, either as principal or second, 
in any duel for any cause whatever,” said the brave old 
veteran. 

“ Oh, sir — hut that is a rebuke ; and coming from you, a 
very severe one,” said the young culprit, sorrowfully. 

“ It is not intended as such, Francis. Men, I know, 
have different ideas upon these subjects. For instance, I 
do not believe it lawful in a man, for the gratification of 
his selfish passions or the ^satisfaction’ of his imaginary 
‘honor,’ to risk his life or seek the life of another. I 
believe it to be a high offence against the Author of all life- 
Nor could I engage in any adventure upon which I could 
not invoke the blessing of Heaven.” 

“ Which we could not do on our adventure, certainly. 
But I do most humbly and thankfully acknowledge 
Heaven’s undeserved great mercy on its issue.” 

“ I am glad to hear you say so, Francis. And now will 
you kindly touch the bell — it is at your elbow, I see — and 
tell the waiter when he comes to show Mr. Hammond up 
into this room.” 

“ Dick is with you ? ” inquired Francis, as he complied 
with the general’s request.^ 

“ Certainly. Did I not tell you so ? But I left him to 
settle with the cabman while I ran in to make inquiries of 
the clerk.” 

As the general spoke the waiter entered the room- 


THE PURSUIT. 349 

" Go down and find out Mr. Hammond and show him up 
into this room/’ said Mr. Tredegar. 

The waiter bowed and disappeared; hut soon came back 
and ushered in Dick. 

There was a start of surprise from Dick at seeing Mr. 
Tredegar, and then a grave hand-shaking between them. 

^‘Well, my boy, I suppose you have heard matters are 
na: so bad as we feared ? ” said the general, turning to 
Dick. 

Yes, sir ; thank Heaven. Can I see Alexander ? ” 

“ Why, I have not seen him myself yet, except at a dis- 
tance and covered up in swaddling bands. Tredegar here 
turned me out of the room before I could get near the bed- 
side.” 

“ Invited you out ; brought you here, general,” said 
Francis, deprecatingly. 

It amounts to the same thing, my dear fellow,” said 
the general, good-humoredly. “ Tredegar was Alexander’s 
second in this mad affair,” he added, turning to Dick. 

So I supposed on seeing him here,” answered Mr. 
Hammond. 

‘^Gentlemen,” said Francis Tredegar, ^^if you will 
excuse me for a moment, I will go in and see my patient, 
and then come back and let you know whether j^ou also 
can see him with safety.” 

“ Go, Francis,” said the general, waving his hand. 

Tredegar went out, and after a few moments returned 
and said : 

He seems to be sleeping soundly, or else to be sunk 
into a deep stupor; indeed I am not physician enough to 
say which. But in either case, I think, if you come in 
quietly, you can do him no harm.” 

Then they all went into the wounded man’s chamber 
and stood at his bed-side, and looked at him. 

There he lay, less like a sick or w'ounded patient than 


850 


THE bride’s fate. 


the laid-out corpse of a dead man. His hair was cut short 
and his head bandaged with w'et linen cloths. Plis face 
was deadly pallid, with a greenish white hue ; his eyes 
were closed and sunken ; his lips compressed ; and his fea- 
tures still and stiff. His chest was also bandaged with wet 
linen cloths, and his shoulders and chest wrapped in a 
sheet instead of a shirt, for the convenience of frequently 
changing the dressings of his wound. His form was still 
and stiff as his features. 

On seeing this ghastly sight, Hick uttered an irrepressi- 
ble exclamation of horror. Even the veteran-soldier 
groaned. 

“ It is not half as had as it looks,’’ said Francis, encour- 
agingly. “There is nothing in the world makes a man 
look so death-like as these white swaddling-clothes, that 
put us in mind of winding-sheets. The surgeon says he 
will do well.” 

“ Ah ? who is attending him ? ” inquired the general. 

“ Prince Ernest left his own physician here to look after 
him. He is Doctor Dietz, a graduate of one of the medi- 
cal colleges of. Vienna — which, I am told, are now really 
the best, and are destined soon to he acknowledged as the 
best medical schools in the world.” 

“ And this eminent surgeon says that the wounded man 
will do well ? ” 

“ These were his very words.” 

“ That is satisfactory.” 

“ And now, general, that you have seen your nephew, I 
think we had better all adjourn to the parlor. Our patient 
wants all the air in this room for himself,” advised Mr. 
Tredegar. 

When they went back to the parlor, Dick turned to 
Francis Tredegar, and said : 

“ You will let us have the use of this room for an hour 
or two, until we settle what we are to do next.” 


THE PURSUIT. 


851 


Why, certainly. The room is your own. At least it 
38 Alick’s, which is now exactly the same thing, since he is 
lying lielpless and. you are his next of kin. Shall I retire ? 
Do you wish to he alone ? ” 

By no means. I only want to order breakfast up here. 
We have been up, walking or driving over the country in 
pursuit of the duellists, since six o’clock this morning, and 
it is now eleven, and we have had nothing to eat and are 
famished.” 

“ Oh, by the way, I ought to have thought of that ! 
allow me ! ” exclaimed Francis Tredegar, starting up and 
ringing the bell. 

“ Breakfast for three, immediately. Serve it in this 
room, and bring the best you have that is ready,” he 
ordered, as soon as the waiter showed himself. 
s The cloth was soon laid and the table spread. And our 
friends sat down to an excellent meal of rich coffee and 
fragrant tea ; milk, cream and butter of such excellence as 
can be found nowhere else in the world; fish just out of 
the sea, beefsteak, chickens, French rolls and English muf- 
fins. 

“ Dick, my dear fellow,” said the general, as they lin- 
gered over the delicious repast, one of us must remain 
here to look after Alick, and the other must go back to 
London to take care of little Lenny and the young 
women.” 

Yes, sir; and I will be the one to go or to stay, which- 
ever you shall decide. And pray think of your own ease 
and health, my dear sir, before you do decide,” answered 
Hammond. 

You are a very good fellow, Dick, a very good fellow. 
But I believe reason and judgment must settle the matter. 
I will remain here to look after my nephew. He will not 
be likely to quarrel with me when he sees me, as he might 
with you if he should find you by his side when he comes 


852 


THE bride’s fate. 


to himself. And, besides, I think this quiet, pretty sea-side 
town will agree with me after the hurly-burly of London. 
And lastly and mostly — it is you who ought to go back to 
town for your wife’s sake.” 

“ All right, my dear sir ; it shall be as you please. I 
confess I like this arrangement best ; but if you had said, 

‘ Dick, go and I will stay,’ or ^ Dick, stay and I wiil go,’ I 
should have obeyed you without a moment’s hesitation, as 
a soldier obeys his commanding officer.” 

I know you would, my boy, therefore it behooves me to 
consider your interests before I make a decision.” 

And now let us see about the time of starting. I must 
return in the yacht, of course.” 

Of course.” 

‘‘Then it will depend upon the tide. I had better go 
down and see the master.” » 

“ Yes, I think you had.” 

Dick Hammond took his hat and went down to the 
yacht. 

Captain Wallace was not on hoard when Mr. Hammond 
reached the deck. The captain was taking a holiday by 
walking through the town, and probably solacing himself 
with a pipe and a bottle of brandy at some favorite resort 
where the old mariner was well known. 

So Dick had to wait an hour or two for his return. 

When Wallace came back Dick soon discovered that he 
was well posted up in regard to the event, which was then 
the one topic of conversation at every coffee room in the 
town. 

“ And so you were too late to stop the duel, sir ?” were 
almost the first words the master of the yacht spoke to 
Dick. 

“Yes; but the affair did not terminate so fatally as 
might have been apprehended. 

“ No, so I hear — so I hear ! And the wounded gentle- 
man was your kinsman, sir ? ” 


A SHOCK. 


858 


« Yes.” 

Shall you take him over to England ? ” 

“ Oh no. He cannot be moved at present. My uncle 
will remain here to look after him ; but I return at once, or 
as soon as the tide will serve.” 

That will be about nine o’clock.” 

Can you be ready to make sail by that time ? ” 

“ Yes, sir ; the yacht is yours for the time it is hired.” 

Then we will sail at nine. I will be here punctually 
at that hour.” 

All right, sir.” 

Dick Hammond returned to the hotel, where he arrived 
about one o’clock. He spent the day and dined with his 
uncle and his friend. 

At half-past eight o’clock he paid his last visit to the 
bedside of his cousin, in whom, as yet, there appeared but 
little change. 

And then he took leave of all and went down to the 
yacht; and at a few minutes after nine the Flying 
Foam ” made sail for England. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A SHfi)CK. 


What is life ? 'Tis like the ocean, 

In its placid hours of rest, — 

Sleeping calmly, no emotion 
Rising on its tranquil breast. 

But, too soon, the heavenly sky 
Is obscured by Nature’s hand; 

And the whirlwind, passing by. 

Leaves a wreck upon the strand. — A hontmou*. 

« A black cloud, that ! rising over yonder— we shall have 
dirty weather to-night,” said the master of the “Flying 
Foam,” coming to the side of Dick Hammond, as the latter 
22 


V 


864 


THE BKIDE’s fate. 


stood leaning over the bulwarks of the yacht and looking 
out upon the receding town and shores of St. Auhins. 

Dick raised his eyes to a long black line just visible 
above the heights of Noirmont, and then said : 

“Yes; I think it looks threatening; but the ^Flying 
Foam ’ is a sea- worthy little craft, I suppose ? ” 

“ Bless you, yes, sir ! I’ve seen her ride safely over seas 
that would have swamped a ship of the line,” answered the 
master, as he went forward to make ready for the expected 
“ dirty weather.” 

And dirty weather it was, though not so “ dirty ” as to 
endanger the safety of the yacht. 

The cloud arose, and spread, and covered the whole face 
of the heavens as with a black pall, in strange and terrible 
contrast to the surface of the sea, now lashed into a white 
foam. A driving storm of wind and rain came on. 

Dick, who much preferred the comfortable to the sublime, 
left the deck and went below to smoke and read by the 
light of the cabin lamp. But, after one or two attempts, 
he found the reading process quite impracticable by the 
motion of the vessel, and so he gave it up. 

After a while, he was joined by the master, who had left 
the deck in charge of his mate. 

“It has turned into a settled rain that will last all 
night,” said Captain Wallace, as he took the chair Dick 
pushed towards him ; for Dick, as one of the parties hiring 
the yacht, was king of the cabin. 

“ Disagreeable, but not dangerous,” was Dick’s cool com- 
ment, as he pushed his case of cigars toward his guest. 

“ Thank you, sir ; but, if you don’t mind, I’ll take my 
pipe,” said Captain Wallace, who soon comprehended that 
he might take liberties with this good-humored young man 
who was but too ready to fraternize with the first compan- 
ion fortune favored him with. 

And there the two men sat and smoked through ]the first 
hours of the dismal night. 


THE SHOCK. 


855 


At midnight, they turned in. 

Dick slept long and well. It was late in the morning 
when he awoke. Judging from his previous day^s experi- 
ence, he thought the yacht must be in port or near it. He 
dressed himself quickly, and went on deck. He found him- 
self still at sea. A slow, steady rain was falling, and dark 
clouds closed in the horizon. The dismal night had been 
followed by a dismal day ; and the worst of it was, that he 
could not sleep through the day as he had slept through 
the night. 

Good morning to you, sir ! a dark sky ! ” said the mas- 
ter, coming up to his side. 

Yes. Are we near port ? 

Within twenty miles.^^ 

How fast are we going ? ” 

How slow, you mean ? The wind is against us — we are 
not making more than four knots an hour.” 

At that rate, we shall not make Southampton in less 
than five hours. Let me see,” said Dick, consulting his 
watch, — “ it is now ten o’clock. We shall not, at this rate, 
get in before three.” 

^^Ho, sir ; but you’ll have some breakfast now ? ! ” 

Thanks, yes ! it will help to pass the time, at least.” 

The master beckoned a boy, and sent a message to the 
steward. 

And, in half an hour afterward the appetizing breakfast 
of the yacht was served ; and Dick did his usual justice to 
the meal. 

Afterwards he killed the time as well as he could by 
reading a little, talking a little, and smoking a little. 

Affairs also turned out rather better than he had expected. 
At noon the wind changed, the sky cleared, the sun shone 
out, and the Flying Foam,” with all her sails set, 
skimmed over the seas towards England at the rate of 
eleven knots an hour. 


856 


THE bride’s fate. 


At olie o’clock slie dropped anchor at Southampton. 

Dick settled his last scores with the master, — who was 
master afloat, and agent ashore, — and then he inquired : 

Do you know any thing about the up train, captain ? ” 
There is an express train starts at a quarter before 
two, and there is not another train until five,” answered 
the master. 

“ I’ll take that train,” exclaimed Dick. 

And he made all his own little preparations, and he 
hurried the men that were getting out the boat to take 
him ashore. 

As soon as he stepped on shore, he ran and called a cab, 
jumped into it, and, having given his hasty order, w'as 
driven rapidly to the station. He was just in time to secure 
his ticket, spring into a half-empty carriage — and not a 
moment to spare before the express started. 

It was not until the train was in motion and his own 
hurry was over, that he recollected one or two things that 
might have been attended to had he chosen to wait a few 
minutes. First and nearest, he might have taken his 
change from the cabman, whose fare was half a crown, and 
to whom he had thrown half a sovereign. 

Dut Dick did not the least regret that neglect. 

And then he might have called at the International to 
see if any letters had been left for him. But neither, upon 
reflection, did Dick regret this neglect. He considered it 
was not probable any letters were awaiting there ; or, if there 
were, that they should be of much importance ; or, even 
if so, whether he were not doing the very thing that should 
be done under such supposatory circumstances, namel}^, hur- 
rying back to London by the express train. So, upon the 
whole, Dick was glad he forgot to lose time and miss the 
express by calling at the International to inquire for letters. 

The train flew on with its usual lightning rate of speed, 
«nd at five o’clock reached its station in Lon ion. 


A SHOCK. 


357 


He got out upon the platform, carpet-bag in hand, and 
began to look for a cab, when he heard a little voice call- 
ing: 

Dit ! Dit ! oh, Dit ! tome here, Dit ! ” 

In great surprise he looked about him, confidently expect* 
ing to see little Lenny and Pina, and perhaps Anna and 
Drusilla, come to the station on the chance of meeting 
him. 

But he saw no one that he knew. And though he 
plunged into the crowd seeking the owner of the little 
voice in the direction from which he had heard it, he saw 
nothing of either little Lenny or his nurse. 

At length, thinking that he had been mistaken, he gave 
up the quest, and took a cab for Trafalgar Square. 

Afterwards he recollected, as a dream or a vision, the 
momentary flitting through the crowd of a ragged woman 
with a child in her arms. 

But at the instant of seeing these, he had not dreamed 
of connecting them in any way with the voice he had 
heard. With something of that vague anxiety we all feel 
in returning home, even after a short absence, Bichard 
Hammond hurried to Trafalgar Square. 

As soon as he reached the Morley House, he sprang from 
the cab, tossed a crown piece to the cabman, and without 
waiting for the change, ran into the house and up to his 
apartments. 

He went straight to the drawing-room, where he found 
Anna sitting in the window seat. 

She turned, and with an exclamation of pleasure started 
up to meet him. 

Oh, Dick, I am so glad you have come back ! What 
news ? How did it all end ? ” she breathlessly inquired as 
she threw herself into his arms. 

‘^In two words — not fatally,” he answered as he em- * 
braced her. 


858 


THE BRIDE S FATE. 


Thank Heaven for that I You were in time, then ?” 

Ho, not in time to prevent the meeting. It had taken 
place a few minutes before our arrival at St. Aubins. By 
the way, it was not to Guernsey, but to Jersey, that the 
duellists went. We found out the mistake in the telegram 
as soon as we reached Southampton. We were fortunate in 
being able to hire a yacht and pursue them to St. Aubins.’’ 

“ But you did not reach there in time to prevent the 
duel ? ” 

Ho, it had already taken place, as I told you.” 

“ But with what result — with what result ? Oh, Dick, 
why can’t you speak and tell me ? ” 

My dear, I did tell you, — with no fatal result.” 

“ But with a serious one. Oh, Dick, what was it ? Has 

poor Alick got himself into trouble by shooting that 

Austrian acrobat ? ” 

“ Ho, nonsense ! Have more respect for a prince than to 
call him an acrobat, if he does jump about when he is 
angered. He was not hurt — he was not touched. Alick 
was too much excited to aim steadily, I suppose, so his ball 
went — Heaven knows where. But ” 

^^But Alick himself, — was he wounded ?” 

“ Alick was wounded in the chest by a ball and in the 
back of the head by a sharp stone upon which his head 
struck in falling. Heither of the wounds is .considered 
dangerous. I left him in good hands in the St. Aubins 
hotel.” 

But my grandfather — where is he ? Why doesn’t he 
come up ? Of course he returned with you ? ” 

Ho, he remained in St. Aubins to look after Alick.” 

“ Oh, Dick, he remained there ! Then he never received 
our telegram ! ” said Anna, turning pale. 

“ Your telegram ! Ho ! What telegram ? We received 
none. What has happened, Anna?” demanded Kichard 
Hammond, becoming alarmed. 


A SHOCK. 


S59 


Oh, Dick, I thought you knew,” cried Anna, dropping 
into a chair and bursting into tears. 

“ In the name of Heaven what has happened ? You aro 
well. But where is Drusilla ? Where is little Lenny ? 
I don’t see either of them ! ” 

“ Oh Dick ! Dick ! little Lenny is — lost,” replied Anna, 
uttering the last word with a gasp, and sobbing hysteri- 
cally. 

Lost ! Good Heaven, Anna, little Lenny lost ? ” re- 
peated Dick, changing color. 

Yes, yes, yes ! lost since day before yesterday after- 
noon — lost since the very day you left. We telegraphed to 
you the same day. We hoped you would receive the 
telegram immediately on your arrival at Southampton ; and 
I who knew that you were going further, hoped that at 
least you would get it on your return. Oh, Dick ! ” 

“ Lost since the day before yesterday, and not found 
yet,” repeated Bichard Hammond, in amazement and sor- 
row. 

Oh yes, oh Dick. We have not seen him since — since 
2 /ow yourself saw him last. Oh, Dick, he never returned 
from that walk you and grand-pa sent him to take, to get 
him and Pina out of the way, you know,” sobbed Anna. 

It would kill my uncle ! ” exclaimed Bichard. “ It 
would kill him ! But, good Heaven ! how did it all 
happen ? I don’t understand it at all. I can hardly 
believe it yet. Compose yourself, Anna, if you can, and 
tell me all about it.” 

With many sobs Anna told the story of little Lenny’s 
abduction, as far as it was known to herself, and also 
described the measures that had been taken for his re- 
coverj^, but taken, so far, without effect. 

^^But his poor young mother, — rhow docs she bear it? 
and where is she now ? ” inquired Dick. 

** Oh, Dick, poor Drusilla ! I do fear for her life, oi her 


860 


THE bride’s fate. 


reason, in this horrible suspense, worse than death ! Noth- 
ing but her unwavering faith in Providence has saved her 
from insanity or death,” wept Anna. 

But where is she now ? ” repeated Dick. Can I see 
her ? ” 

You can not see her until her return. She is out look- 
ing for her child. She is always out looking for him. She 
takes a cab at daylight in the morning, and drives out 
through the narrow streets and lanes of the city, keeping 
watch all the time from the cab windows, entering into all 
the houses she is permitted to visit, inquiring of the people 
about her lost child, offering them heavy rewards for his 
recovery, pointing them to the posters in which his person 
is described and the great reward offered, and setting as 
many people as she can at work to search for him. Twenty 
hours out of the twenty-four she spends in this way.” 

“ But this will kill her.” 

think it will. She scarcely eats, drinks or sleeps 
She does nothing but look for her child and weep and 
pray. When she has worn out a cab-horse, she comes back 
here to get a fresh one ; and then I make her drink a little 
tea or coffee. At twelve or one o’clock in the night, when 
the houses are all shut up, she comes back here and throws 
herself down upon the bed to watch and pray, and perhaps 
to swoon into a sleep of prostration that lasts till morning. 
Then at four or five o’clock she is up and away upon the 
search.” 

Poor child ! poor child ! such a life will certainly soon 
kill her.” 

“I sometimes think the sooner it does so the better for 
her. Her miser}’- makes my heart bleed. I wonder how 
any woman can suffer the intense anguish of suspense she 
endures and live and keep her senses.” 

Anna, why do you not accompany her when she goes 
rut ? ” inquired Dick, with some surprise. 


A SHOCK. 


861 


“Why, don’t you suppose that I do ? What do y<iu take 
me for, Dick ? I have always gone with her until this last 
trip. When we returned home at four o’clock, to get a 
fresh horse, she took it into her poor head that you and 
uncle would certainly arrive by the five o’clock train from 
Southampton, and so she made me stay to receive you.” 

“ And, you say, Anna, that Alick is suspected of being 
con-cerned in this abduction ? ” 

“ Yes, but I do not know that Drusilla suspects him very 
strongly now. Pina first suggested it, and we seized on 
the idea with eagerness. It was so much more comforting 
to think that he was safe with his father than in danger 
any where else.” 

“ But, you see, that is impossible. His father is lying 
seriously wounded, several hundred miles away.” 

“ Yes, that is the worst of it ; for, if Alick should hare 
employed these men to steal little Lenny from his mother, 
it is almost fatal to the child’s safety that the father should 
not have been here to have received him from his abduc- 
tors.” 

“And yet that may be the very case! Alick, in his 
madness, since he was mad enough for anything, may have 
engaged these men to abduct the boy for him. If so, he 
must have forgotten the danger to which the child would 
be exposed in the event of this abduction being completed 
during his own absence or after his death. And so he must 
have gone down to Jersey to fight his duel, leaving little 
Lenny exposed to all the dangers he had invoked around 
him. It is dreadful to think of! If Alexander Lyon were 
not morally insane, he would be a demon ! ” 

“ To do such a thing as this ? But we are not by any 
means sure he did do it, Dick ! ” 

“No, there is a ^reasonable doubt,’ as the lawyers have 

"" it.” 

“Aid A.lick should be communicated with immediately, 


862 


THE bride’s fate. 


SO as to be posted in regard to liis son’s danger, whether he 
has had any hand in it or not. If. he has had any thing 
to do with it, he will certainly, under the circumstances, 
give us the clue to recover him, for he cannot wish the boy 
to remain in the hands of such people. If he knows noth- 
ing about the abduction, and learns it first from us, still he 
will render what aid he can in recovering the boy. AVe 
did telegraph him to this effect at Southampton, but of 
course he missed his telegram as you did yours. But now 
he must be consulted by letter immediately — write at once, 
Dick, so. as to save this mail,” said Anna, breathlessly. 

“ My darling, you talk so fast I can’t keep pace with you 
or even get in a word edgeways, — Alick is not in a condi- 
tion to receive or understand any sort of communication, 
and will not probably be so for some days to come. I left 
him in a state of complete insensibility, resulting from the 
wound in the back of his head.” 

Good gracious, Dick ! and you said he was not fatally, 
or even dangerously wounded ! ” cried Anna, aghast. 

And I gave the opinion of the eminent surgeon who is 
in attendance upon him. A man may be so ill as to be 
incapable of attending to any thing, and yet may not be in 
any danger at all. But tell me, Anna, have you taken the 
detectives into your confidence entirely upon this subject, 
and put them into possession of all the facts of the case 
and all your suspicions as well ? You know you ought to 
have done it.” 

And we have done it ! Bor a short time, Drusilla 
shrank terribly from breathing a suspicion that her hus- 
band was probably concerned in the taking off of her child ; 
but, when it became evident that little Lenny’s recovery 
depended upon the detectives’ having the full knowledge of 
all the circumstances attending it, she commissioned me to 
tell them as much as was really necessary, but entreated 
me to spare Alick even if I did it at her expense. So I told 


A SHOCK. 


363 


the detectives every thing — every thing ! They know as 
much about it as you do ; for, in Drusilla’s and little Len- 
ny’s cause, I would not have spared Alick, to have saved 
his soul, much less his character.” 

“ And did these skillful and experienced officers share in 
your suspicions of the father’s complicity in the abduc- 
tion ? ” 

“No, strangely enough, they did not. These people 
liave a noble respect for a lord — Heaven save the majk ! 
They think Lord Killcrichtoun would never have stooped 
to such an under-handed act, when he might have taken 
the boy with the high hand of the law.” 

“ Humph ! Lid tJiey suggest anything themselves ? 
Having told you what didnH become of the boy, did they 
suggest what did? ” 

“ Yes, they really did ! they suspected — just imagine it ! 
— that the child had been stolen for the sake of his clothes, 
just as a dog is sometimes stolen for the sake of his col- 
lar!” 

“ Ah, Anna, I pin my faith on the experienced officers. 
I am inclined now fully to exonerate Alick and be guided 
by the detectives. Now I begin to see light — now I under- 
stand what occurred to me at the railway station 1 ” said 
Lick, significantly. 

“ ^ What occurred to you at the railroad station,’ Lick ? 
Oh, Lick ! what was that ? Anything that concerned 
little Lenny ? ” eagerly inquired Anna. 

“ I should think it did concern little Lenny. As truly 
as I live, Anna, w'hen I reached town this afternoon and 
stepped out upon the platform, and while I was looking 
around for a cab, I heard little Lenny’s voice calling me ! ” 

“ Oh, Lick ! You didn’t ! ” 

“ As I live I did ! He called me as he was asccustomed 
to call me — ^ Lit ! Lit I Oh, Lit, tome here ! ’ ” 

“ Oh ! why didnH you answer him ? Why didnH yov. 


864 


THE bride’s fate. 


go after him and rescue him and bring him home ? — Per- 
haps you did ! Perhaps you have only been playing igno- 
rance to tease me ! Oh, Dick, don’t do it! If you have 
got little Lenny, tell me so 1 ” said Anna, earnestly, clasp- 
ing her hands. 

My poor wife, I wish for your sake and his unhappy 
mother’s, that I had the boy here j but I have not. Listen 
to me — 

But why haven’t you got him here ! If you heard his 
dear little tongue calling you, Dick, why in the world 
didn’t you fly to him and seize him and bring him home to 
his almost distracted mother ! Why didnH you, Dick ? ” 
demanded Anna, ready to cry with an accession of vexa- 
tion. 

My darling Anna, listen to me, will you ? In the first 
place not having received your telegram, I had no suspicion 
whatever that Lenny was lost, else of course I should have 
been on the yui vive to find him, and should have followed 
the voice until I should have got possession of him. But 
when I first heard him calling me in his strong, cheerful, 
peremptory little tones, I looked around, fully expecting 
to see you, Drusilla, the boy and his nurse all come out in 
force to meet me at the station. But when I failed to see 
little Lenny or any of you, I considered myself the victim 
of an auricular illusion.” 

“ But you do not now ? ” 

“ No indeed. I feel sure it was Lenny whom I heard 
calling me. And since you have told me of the abduction 
and of the detective policeman’s theory of it, I recall to 
mind the figure of a disreputable looking woman with a 
child in her arms hurrying out of sight in among the 
crowd. I remember that the woman’s back was towards 
me and that a shawl was thrown over the child’s head. I 
had but a glimpse of them as they slipped into 
crowd.” 


A SHOCK. 


865 


“ oil, Dick ! Dick ! if you had but known ! What a 
fatality ! ” 

It was indeed. But now I must go and give this 
information into Scotland Yard, that the detectives may 
institute a thorough search in the neighborhood of the rail- 
way station where I saw him.^’ 

“ Shall I tell Drusilla?” 

^^Well, let me see: — No, not just yet. I must think 
about it first. It might increase her anxiety.’’ 

“ But it would assure her that her child is alive and well 
and in the city.” 

“Yes; that is true. Yet you^etternot tell her until 
my return. She would he consumed with anxiety to see 
the one who had really seen and heard little Lenny, and to 
hear from him all about it. Don’t you understand ? ” 

“ Of course ; hut don’t be gone long, Dick. Hurry back 
as fast as you can, and perhaps you may get here as soon 
as she does.” 

“ I will lose no time.” 

“But you are just oiff a journey. Won’t you take some- 
thing before you go ? ” 

“ No, Anna ; I will wait until I get hack,” answered 
Richard Hammond, as he arose and left the room. 

Leaving Anna pacing the floor in great excitement and 
impatience, he went down to the street, threw himself into 
a hansom and drove immediately to Scotland Yard. 

There he made his report, and offered from his own 
means an additional reward to accelerate the motions of 
the officers. 

He hurried hack to the Morley House and up to the 
drawing-room, where he found Anna still pacing the floor. 

She turned suddenly around to meet him. 

“ I have started them on the new scent, dear,” he said, 
-throwing himself wearily into a chair. 

“ And you are here, as I hoped, before Drusilla has 
returned ; so she will not have to wait for her news.” 


!366 


THE bride’s fate. 


As Anna spoke there was the sound of a cab drawing up 
before the house. A few minutes after Drusilla entered 
the room. Her face was deadly white and her eyes had 
that wild, wide open, sleepless look seldom seen except in 
the insane. And yet Drusilla, in all her agony of mind, 
was far as possible from insanity. All her anxieties were 
marked by forecast, reason, judgment. 

Dick arose, and his countenance and gestures were full 
of sympathy as he held out his hands and went to meet 
her. 

Qh, Dick ! Dick ! you have heard of my great loss,” 
she said, putting her hands in his. 

Yes, my dear Drusilla,” he answered, in a voice shak- 
ing with the pity that nearly broke his l>eart, as he looked 
upon her great misery. 

“ Oh, my Lenny ! my Lenny ! Oh, my poor little two- 
year old baby ! ” she cried, breaking into sobs and tottering 
on her feet. 

Dick caught her and tenderly placed her in a chair and 
stooped before and took her hands again, saying : 

^‘Dear Drusa, your little Lenny will be found, he will 
indeed, my dear.” 

Oh, I hope so ! I believe so ! — but this suspense is the 
most awful anguish in life ! Oh, where is he now Now 
at this moment, where is my poor little helpless babe ? 
In whose hands ? Suffering what ? 

Her look as she said this was so full of unutterable sor- 
row that Dick could restrain himself no longer. 

“Dear Drusa, dear Drusa,” he said, holding her hands, 
“ your child, wherever he is, is not suffering ; he is well and 
cheerful. I know it.” 

She looked up suddenly as a wild joy flashed over her 
face, for she had sprung to a too natural conclusion. 

“ Oh, Dick, you have found him ! You have found my 
bey ! Oh, tell me so at once ! Oh, don’t try to break such 


A SHOCK. 


867 


news to me as that is ! Joyful news may he told at once ! 
it never kills ! And now you see I know you have found 
my baby ! Oh, bring him to me at once ! Where is he ? 
In my room ? ” 

Slie had spoken rapidly and breathlessly, and now she 
started up to hurry to her chamber, expecting to find her 
child there. 

Dick gently stopped her. 

“Dear Drusilla, I have not got your child. I wish I 
had/^ he began, with his hand on her arm. 

The look of joy vanished from her face. It had been 
but a lightning flash across the night of her sorrow, and 
now it had passed and left the darkness still there. 

“ OA Dick!’’^ she groaned, covering her face with her 
hands and sinking again into her seat. 

“ But, Drusilla, dear, I have a clue to him ! I have 
indeed ! And I know that he is alive and well and cheer- 
ful.” 

“ Oh, Dick, is this so ? Oh, Dick, I know you wouldn’t 
deceive me, even for my own comfort, would you now, 
Dick ? ” she pleaded. 

“ Heaven knows I would not, Drusilla. Your child was 
alive and well at five o’clock this afternoon — only two hours 
ago, for it is now only seven. And though you can not 
now find him in your chamber, you need not be surprised 
at any future hour to find him there.” 

“ Alive and well two hours ago ! You are sure, Dick ? ” 

“ Sure as I am of my own life.” 

“ Where was he, then ? Who saw him ? Who told 
you ? ” 

, “He was at the railway station in the arms of a poor 
woman. I saw him, and I heard him.” 

“ Oh, Dick, why did you not bring him to me at once ?” 

“ Dear Drusilla, I did not then know that he was lost. I 
had just stepped from the carriage to the platform, when I 


868 


THE bride’s fate. 


heard little Lenny’s voice calling me in a strong, chirping, 
authoritative little tone, ^ Dit ! Dit ! tome here ! ’ And I 
looked around, expecting to see him and all of you come to 
meet me. But I saw nothing of any of you. I only saw 
a poor woman with a child about Lenny’s age and size cov- 
ered with a shawl and in her arms. Her back was towards 
me, and she was hurrying away through the crowd. That 
child was little Lenny, though I did not know it or even 
suspect it at the time ; for I only glanced at him and turned 
to look for little Lenny elsewhere, expecting to find him 
with his nurse. When I failed to do so, I thought I had 
been the subject of an ocular illusion. But when I came 
home here, and learned that little Lenny was lost, I under- 
stood the whole thing. And I went immediately to Scot- 
land Yard and gave the information and set the detectives 
on the fresh scent. They are as keen as blood-hounds, you 
know, and they will be sure to find your child. So you 
need not be surprised to see him brought in and laid upon 
your lap at any moment.” 

Another lightning flash of joy passed over her face at this 
announcement. 

“ Oh, Dick ! Dick ! you give me new life ! You saw my 
child two hours ago ! Did you see his face ? ” she eagerly 
inquired. 

Of course not, else I should have claimed him and 
brought him home. He was covered with a shawl, I tell 
you, and hurried through the crowd. I did not know he 
was Lenny till afterwards.” 

But you heard his voice, and you knew that ? ” 

Oh, yes, I knew his voice ; but I did not at the moment 
know where the voice came from.” 

“ Oh, Dick, what was it he said ? dear little Lenny ! tell 
me again.” 

Dick repeated the words. 

And oh, Dick, did he speak sadly, piteously, imploring- 


A SHOCK. 


369 


ly, as if he was suffering and wanting you to relieve 
him ? 

^‘No, indeed! quite the contrary I he hailed me in his 
usual hearty manner ; and commanded me to come to him, 
just as he is accustomed to speak to all of us, his slaves, 
when he is lording it over us and ordering us around,” said 
Dick, so cheerfully that he called up a wan smile upon the 
poor young mother’s face. 

Now, I’ll tell you all about it, Drusilla,” pursued Dick 
confidently. The fact is, the child must have been stolen 
first, for the sake of the fine lace and gold and coral on his 
dress ; and now he is kept for his beauty to beg with. No 
doubt, now that the clue is found, he will be recovered in a 
few hours. And I want you to bear this in fact mind — that 
you need not be surprised at any moment to see your child 
brought in and laid upon your lap. Keep that hope before 
you, and let it support your soul through this suspense, and 
let it prepare you for the event, so that you may not die of 
joy when it comes,” said Kichard Hammond. 

And certainly he believed himself justified in giving this 
advice. 

‘^Dick ! dear Dick ! you have brought the first crumb of 
earthly comfort that has come to me since I lost my little 
Lenny,” said Drusilla, gratefully. “ But where is uncle ? ” 
she asked, suddenly recollecting the general. 

He is detained, by some business.” 

He is quite well ? ” 

^‘Very well,” answered Dick, cheerfully. 

And now I hope you will be .willing to stay at home 
and rest just one evening, dear Drusilla,” added Anna. 

Oh, don’t ask me to do that, dear Anna ! How could I 
stay home in inactivity, especially now that I know where 
to look for him ? No, I will drive down to that neighbor- 
hood in which he was seen, and I will search for him there,” 
23 


370 


THE bride’s fate. 


answered Drusilla, firmly and very cheerfully, for hope had 
come into her heart again. 

And Anna and myself will go with you, my dear Drusa, 
for we have nothing to do hut to devote ourselves to your 
service until your child shall he found,” said Dick, afiec- 
tionately. 

‘‘ Then I shall order tea at once, and something substan- 
tial along with it,” said Anna, rising. 

Inspired by the new hope brought to her by Dick, Dru- 
silla’s spirits rose. / 

When tea was placed upon the table, with the ‘‘ some- 
thing substantial ” promised by Anna, Drusilla was able to 
join the party and even to partake of the refreshment. 

Afterwards, accompanied by her two friends, she got into 
a cab and drove to the railway station where Dick had seen 
little Lenny in the arms of the strange woman. 

There they drove up and down the streets and roads and 
in and out among the lanes and alleys, and inquired at 
many shops and houses for such a woman and child, but 
they neither found nor heard of one or the other. 

To be sure, there were many poor beggar women, and 
many little two-year old children ; but they did not answer 
to the description of little Lenny and his strange bearer. 

They also found their coadjutors, the detective policemen, 
in the same neighborhood, upon the same search. The de- 
tectives had had as yet no better success than their em- 
ployers j but their hopes were high and their words encour- 
aging. 

They had great sympathy for the bereaved and anxious 
young mother, and they came to her carriage door with ex- 
pressions full of confidence. 

We shall be sure to find the little gentleman now, my 
lady. Now when we know where to look for bim. It is 
a downright certainty, you know. Why, Lord love you, 
■ir, there aint a woman in this neighborhood as has heard 


A SHOCK. 


871 


aT)out the child that aint a« interested in the search as we 
are, and out of downright human motherly feeling too, to 
say nothing of the hope of getting the reward. Bless yon, 
my lad^, take heart, and don’t you be taken by surprise 
any time to see me walk in and put your little boy in your 
arms. And if I might be so bold, ma’am, I would recom- 
mend you to persuade her to go home and go to her rest 
and leave us to follow up the clue, and just have faith till I 
bring the young gentleman home,” said the detective, with 
his head in the door, and addressing in turn the three 
occupants of the carriage. 

That is what I am telling her,” said Dick, “ to wait 
patiently ; or, if she can’t do that, to wait hopefully until 
her child is brought home and laid on her lap.” 

And now, it is so late, and you have lost so much rest, 
Drusilla, dear, that I do think you had better go back, and 
lie down even if you cannot sleep,” said Anna, earnestly. 

“ Friends, you are so kind to me and so interested in my 
child’s recovery, that I owe it to you to follow your advice. ^ 
So I will j)ut myself in your hands at least for this even- 
ing,” answered Drusilla. 

“ That is right, that is right, my dear,” said Dick. 

And, my lady, take this truth with you to comfort you 
— that we will never give up the search until we find the 
child. We will never give it up by night or by day till we 
find him. While some of us gets our needful bit of food or 
nap of sleep, the others will be pursuing of the search till 
we find him. And when we do find him, my lady, be it 
midnight, or noonday, or any other hour of the twenty- 
four, I will bring him to you,” said the officer, earnestly. 

Oh, do, do, do ! and you shall have half my fortune for 
your pains — the whole of it, if you will, and my eternal 
gratitude besides ! ” exclaimed Drusilla fervently clasping 
her hands. 

“ My lady, the reward offered in the hand-bills would set 


872 


THE bride’s fate. 


me up for life ; and, thougb that is a great object, and was 
my only object at first, it is not now — it is not indeed ! I 
am most anxious to find the young gentleman, to give you 
peace — I am indeed.” 

I believe you, and I thank and bless you,” said Dru- 
silla. 

And then the policeman touched bis hat, and closed the 
door, and transmitted Mr. Hammond’s order to the cab- 
man. 

“ Home.” 

They drove hack to the Morley House. 

And there Dick and Anna made Drusilla take a glass of 
port wine and a biscuit, and go to bed. 

All arose very early the next morning. Anna ordered 
the breakfast, that it might be ready when Drusilla should 
come down. 

Dick soon joined her. 

You will write to grand-pa, to-day ? ” inquired Anna. 

Not unless little Lenny is found. I dread the effect 
the news of the child’s loss would have upon him at his 
age, and I wish to spare him if possible,” answered Dick. 

But if Leuny is not found to-day, and grand-pa gets no 
letter to-morrow, he will feel very anxious at not hearing 
from us.” 

“ I know it. I must think of some plan by which I can 
write to him without alarming him, and bring him home 
here, before telling him of our loss. Here we might break 
the news to him gently; and, if it should overcome him, 
here we can look after him. I will think of some such, 
plan and act upon it, to-day,” said Dick, anxiously and re- 
flectively. 

While the husband and wife took counsel together, the 
door opened, and Drusilla, dressed as for a drive, came in. 

Good morning, my dear ! Did you sleep last night ? ” 
anxiously inquired Anna. 


A SHOCK. 


373 


<< A little « 

‘^But you are not going out until you have breakfasted, 
aay dear Drusilla? ” said Dick. 

I have been out for the last three hours, and have just 
returned,” she answered. 

Good Heaven, Drusilla, you will destroy your life, and 
all to no purpose ! The detectives are all sufficient for this 
business. You cannot help them,” urged Anna. 

“ I know it ; but I can not rest,” replied Drusilla. 

You have been to the same neighborhood ? You have 
seen the officers this morning ? ” inquired Dick. 

« Yes.” 

Any news ? ” 

“Hone ; but the men give me great hopes, and I must 
trust in God.” 

“ How, Drusilla, donT go up stairs,” said Anna. “ Take 
off your bonnet and shawl here, for here is the waiter, with 
our breakfast.” 

Drusilla complied with this advice. And they were 
about to sit down to the table, when there was heard a 
hurried step upon the stairs, and the door was thrown 
open, and old General Lyon, dusty, travel-stained, pale and 
excited, burst into the room. 

“ Is THE CHILD FOUND ? ” he Cried to the astonished 
circle. 

“Ho; but we have a clue to him,” answered Dick, as soon 
as he could recover his self-possession and his breath. 

The old man sank into a chair, covered his face with big 
hands, and shook as with an ague fit. 

Anna hastily poured out a cup of coffee and brought it 
to him. 

“ Drink this, dear grand-pa, and you will feel better,” she 
said. 

The old man raised his head and looked at her. 

“ How do you do, my dear ? I really forgot to speak to 
you,” he said. 


374 


THE bride’s fate. 


Never mind that, dear sir. I am very well. Drink 
this. It will do you good,” she urged. 

You say you have a clue to him ? ” he inquired, as he 
mechanically took the cup from her hand. 

Yes, grand-pa,” 

Why is not the clue followed up ? Why has it not led 
you to him ? 

“ Indeed, it is being very diligently followed up. We 
are in hourly expectation of recovering our little Lenny. 
But, dear sir, please to drink your coffee. You are very 
faint, and need it very much.” 

Where is the poor young mother ? Where is Drusa ? ” 
he continued. 

Drusilla came and knelt down by his side, and took his 
disengaged hand, and looked up in his troubled face and 
said : 

She is here, dear uncle ; and she trusts in the Lord to 
restore her child. But you are sinking with fatigue, and 
with fasting too, I fear. Drink your coffee, and we will tell 
you all we know about our missing boy.” 

And Drusilla put a great constraint upon herself that she 
might comfort him. 

At her request he took the refreshment offered to him, 
and was certainly benefitted by it. 

And they told him all the particulars of little Lenny’s 
abduction, and of the measures that had been taken for his 
recovery. 

But when he heard of Dick’s adventure at the railroad 
station, he came down most unmercifully on that ‘‘ unlucky 
dog.” 

You heard his voice calling you and didn’t go after 
liim ! ” he indignantly exclaimed. 

It was in vain that poor Dick explained and expounded ; 
the old man would hear of no excuses. 

‘^Sii ! do you think if /had heard that helpless infant’s 


A SHOCK. 


375 


Toice, calling me, I would not have obeyed it with more 
promptitude than I ever obeyed the commands of my 
superior officer wlien I was in the army ? What can you 
say for yourself ? ” 

Dick had no word to say why sentence of death should 
not be immediately pronounced on him. 

But Drusilla came to his relief by turning the conversa- 
tion and inquiring : 

Dear uncle, how was it that you heard of little Lenny^s 
being lost ? ” 

By the newspapers, of course. ^ I was sitting by the 
bedside of — 

Here Dick trod slyly upon his uncle’s toe. 

The general stopped short. 

Drusilla perceived that there was a secret between them 
that must be kept ; so, without suspecting that it concerned 
herself or her Alick, she respected it, and turned away her 
head until the general recovered himself sufficiently to pur- 
sue the subject in another manner. 

You asked me how I learned little Lenny’s loss, my 
dear. Well, yesterday morning I was sitting by the bed- 
side of a friend whom I had undertaken to look after, when 
tke morning papers were brought to me, and I saw the 
advertisement. That was at nine o’clock. There was a 
boat left at ten for Southampton, and I took it and reached 
port at midnight. I took the first train for London and 
got here this morning.” 

Such was the general’s explanation, given in the presence 
of Drusilla. 

It was not until after they had all breakfasted, and he 
found himself in his own bedroom alone with Dick, that he 
was able to make a report upon Alick’s condition — a report 
that Dick subsequently transmitted to Anna. 

Well, his condition is even more precarious than when 
you left him ; irritajave fever has set in, and he is delirious 


376 THE bride’s fate. 

— or was so when I left him. He had not once recognized 
me. I know the surgeon thinks him in a very dangerous 
condition ; although, of course, he will not admit so much 
to me. But oh, Dick ! the child ! the child ! ” 

“ Be comforted, sir. The child was safe and well in this 
city yesterday. We have the most skillful and experienced 
detectives in the world searching for him, and they will be 
sure to succeed.’’ 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ALEXANDER STRIKES A LIGHT. 

“A death-bed’ B a detector of the heart.” 

So is a sick bed. A man may have passed through the 
greatest college in the world and carried off its highest 
honors; may have travelled over every foot of land and 
sea; may have learned all else that this earth has to teach 
him — yet if he has never had a good, dangerous, rallying 
spell of illness, his education has been neglected. 

Alexander Lyon had been a strong, arrogant, despotic 
man, and not from any mternal force of the spirit, but 
by the eccternal support of great physical strength, sound 
health and large wealth. Of the reverses of these he had 
no experience in his own person, and not enough of sympa- 
thy with others to realize them to his own imagination. 
Poverty, sickness, death, were to him abstract ideas. Ho 
had no personal knowledge of them. 

True, he had lost both his parents by death ; but they 
w'ere very aged ; and his father had died in an instant, like 
a man called away on a hasty journey ; and his mother 
had followed, after a short illness; and their decease 
had left upon his mind the impression of absence rather 
than of death. 


ALEXANDER STRIKES A LIGHT. 377 


Certainly, within a few hours before his duel he had 
been forced to think of his own possible death, but it was 
as of a sudden and violent catastrophe, which in his great 
excitement he was desperate enough to brave and meet. 

But he never imagined being wounded and mutilated, 
and laid helpless and languishing on a bed of weakness 
and pain. 

Yet here he was. 

On the third day after that upon which he had been 
wounded, an irritative fever set in, and from having been 
stupid and quiet he became delirious and violent. 

General Lyon had left him, as we have seen. 

And Francis Tredegar had also, soon after, gone to Lon- 
don on imperative business. 

And Alexander was now in the hands of the skillful sur- 
geon which the magnanimity of Prince Ernest had placed 
in attendance upon him. And the surgeon was assisted 
by the valet Simms and by the servants of the hotel. 

For eight terrible days the wounded man burned with 
fever and raved with frenzy. For eight days, within his 
broken and agonized frame, an almost equal struggle 
between the forces of life and death went on. But, by the 
aid of his strong constitution and of his skillful surgeon, 
life at length prevailed over death. 

It was about the dawn of the critical ninth day, that the 
fever finally left him. 

The surgeon, who, on that particular night, had w^atched 
by his bed, was the first to perceive the signs of reviving 
life, in the moisture of the sleepeFs hands and the moder- 
ated pulsations at his wrists. 

‘‘ The imminent danger is over now. He will live and 
recover, — unless he should have a relapse, which we must 
try to prevent,’^ said Doctor Dietz to Simms, the valet, 
who had shared his watch. 

Simms, who, for the last nine days, had never once been 


878 


THE BKIDE’s fate. 


in bedj but bad snatched bis sleep when, where, and bow 
he could, — sitting, standing, and even walking — yawned 
frightfully, and said he was glad to hear it, and asked if he 
might now lie down. 

The surgeon told him that he might not j that yet, for a 
few hours, he must watch beside his master; afterwards, 
when his master should awake, he (the man) should be 
relieved. 

And, so saying, the surgeon went away, to get some 
sleep for himself. 

And Simms lay back in the best easy chair, just vacated 
by Doctor Dietz, and stretched his feet out on the best 
footstool, and close his eyes in slumber. 

And the only watcher beside the wounded man was the 
All-seeing Eye. 

But all the danger was over, — the fever was cooled, the 
Irenzy calmed, and the patient slept on, — all the more 
quietlj^, perhaps, because his attendant slept also and the 
room was so still. 

It was, I said, just at the dawn of day and about four 
o’clock, when Doctor Dietz pronounced the crisis favorably 
passed, and then left him. 

At eight o’clock the surgeon returned to the sick-room, 
where he found both master and man still aleep. 

Without waking Simms, he went around to the other 
side of the bed, and examined the state of Alexander. His 
former opinion was now confirmed. The patient was sleep- 
ing calmly and breathing softly. His pulse was regular 
and quiet, and his skin cool and moist. 

It is a decided convalescence,” said the surgeon to him- 
self. 

And then, fearing to wake up the attendant lest he 
should disturb the patient, the doctor himself went about 
on tip-toes, putting out the night taper, opening the win- 
dows, and setting the room somewhat in order. 


ALEXANDER STRIKES A LIGHT. 379 

Then he went down stairs to get his own breakfast, and 
to order some proper nourishment to be prepared for the 
wounded man to take as soon as he should awake. 

When he again returned to the room he found Simms 
awake and sitting upright in the chair. 

The doctor raised his finger to warn the valet not to 
speak or make a noise, lest he should disturb the sleeper, 
and then signed him to leave the room. 

And the valet gladly took himself away. 

Doctor Dietz seated himself beside his patient to watch 
for his awakening. As it is neither useful nor entertaining 
to sit and stare a sleeper in the face, the surgeon took out a 
newspaper from his pocket and began to read, lifting his 
eyes occasionally to look at his charge. But at length he 
got upon several columns of highly interesting editorial 
treating upon the politics of Prussia, and he became so ab- 
sorbed in the subject that he read on, forgetting to glance 
at his patient for fifteen or twenty minutes. He might 
have gone on for thirty or forty minutes more without lift- 
ing his eyes from the paper had he not heard his name 
whispered. 

With a slight start he turned and looked at his charge. 

Alexander Lyon was lying awake and calmly contempla- 
ting his physician. 

Doctor Dietz dropped his paper and bent over his 
charge. 

You are better ? he said, quietly. 

Alexander nodded. 

How do you feel ? 

Weak.’^ 

How long have you been awake ? ” 

Two — or three — hours — I think. I donT know,^ 
whispered Alick, feebly and with pain and difficulty. 

Oh no!^^ said the surgeon, taking out his watch and 
consulting it — “not near so long as that, though it may 


380 THE bride’s fate. 

seem so to you ; not more than fifteen or twenty minutes 
at the most.” 

And Doctor Dietz put up his watch and took hold of 
the wrist of his charge. 

I’ve — been ill — long — long,” whispered Alick, looking 
up from his dark, hollow, cavernous eyes. 

“No; there again you are mistaken. You have been 
down little more than a week. But it is always so when 
there has been a period of semi-consciousness. The patient 
loses all calculation of time, and on recovery either fancies 
that no time at all, or else a very long period, has elapsed 
during his illness. But now listen to me. You are very 
much better, and you are on the high road to a speedy re- 
covery. But you must not, as yet, exert yourself at all. 
You must not even speak, except when to do so is absolute- 
ly necessary, and then jmu must only whisper. Whenever 
you can answer by a nod, or a shake of the head, or when- 
ever you can make your wishes known by signs, do so, in- 
stead of speaking. Yau must spare your lungs as much as 
possible. If you follow my direction in this it will be the 
best for you. Will ^mu do it? Mind, rvod if you mean 
yes.” 

Alexander nodded. 

“ That’s right. And now — do you feel hungry or 
thirsty ? — Stop ! don’t answer that question, because I 
didn’t ask it right, and you can’t answer it without speak- 
ing. I will put it in another form. Do you feel 
hungry ? ” 

Alexander nodded. 

“ And thirsty ? ” 

Alick hesitated a moment and then nodded. 

“ Ah ! I understand. You are quite sure you are 
hungry ; but you are not so very sure that you are thirsty. 
And upon the whole you feel as if you w'ould like some- 
thing to eat and to drink as well. Just as we all feel 
about breakfast time, eh ? ” 


ALEXANDER STRIKES A LIGHT. 381 

Alexander nodded and smiled. 

“ Quite right,” said the surgeon. 

And then he rang the bell. 

Would you like black tea, cream toast, and poached 
eggs ? ” inquired the surgeon. 

He was answered by the regulation nod. 

The waiter came, and received the surgeon’s orders to 
prepare the required refreshments and to send the valet to 
the room. 

And when Simms entered, and while waiting for the 
breakfast to be prepared, the surgeon, assisted by the valet, 
changed the dressings of the patient’s wounds, and made 
him clean and fresh and comfortable, so that he might be 
able to enjoy the delicate repast that had been ordered for 
him. 

After his change of clothes and his nourishing breakfast, 
he was laid down again upon fresh pillows, and his bed was 
tidied and his room darkened, and he himself was enjoined 
to rest. 

And rest was of vital importance to him ; for though his 
wounds were now doing well, yet the effort to speak, or to 
move, was still not only difficult and painful, but very in- 
jurious* and even dangerous to his lacerated chest. So he 
was enjoined to rest. 

Rest ? 

His bed was fresh and fragrant, and on it there might be 
rest fbr the pain-racked, wearied body. But what rest 
could there be for the newly awakened mind and startled 
conscience ? 

Lying there in forced inactivity, in his half-darkened 
chamber, unable to read, forbidden to talk, with nothing to 
engage bis attention without, his thoughts were driven 
inward to self-examination. He struck a light and explored 
the gloomy caverns of his own soul. What he found there 
appalled him. There were devilish furies, ferocious beasts, 


882 


THE bride’s fate. 


poisonous reptiles, gibbering maniacs — these were the forms 
of the passions that had possessed him, that still possessed 
him ; but they were lethargic or sleeping now. Should he 
— could he cast them entirely out while they were so 
quiescent ? 

And there were their victims and his own— the bleeding 
forms of wounded love ; the fallen image of dethroned 
honor ; the ghastly skeletons of murdered happiness. 

What a city of desolation, what a valley of Gehenna, 
was this sin-darkened soul ! 

He groaned so deeply that the surgeon came to his side. 

Where is your pain ? ” 

Alexander shook his head ; he could not tell. 

The surgeon examined the wounds, but found them 
doing very well ; and he changed their dressings, but this 
did not seem to do much good. 

The doctor w'ondered that his patient still suffered so 
much. He could not understand any better than Mac- 
beth’s physician, how to minister to a mind diseased.” 

The convalescence of the wounded man was not nearly 
so rapid or assured as his surgeon had hoped and expected. 
How could it be, when he was so haunted by memory and 
tortured conscience ? In these long still days and nights 
on the sick-bed in the dark chambers, he was forced to look 
back upon his own life, to judge his own deeds. What had 
they been ? What were they now ? False and cruel he 
pronounced the one and the others — false and cruel his 
deeds, darkened and ruined his life. 

But out of all the gloom and horror shone brightly one 
form — holy as a saint, lovel}’^ as an angel — the form of his 
injured wife. Oh, wdth what an intense and vehement 
longing he longed for her presence ! — longed for it, yet 
feared it — feared it, though in the image that he saw in 

his mind’s eye ” the whole face and form glowed and 
vibrated with compassion and benediction. Blessing 


ALEXANDER STRIKES A LIGHT. 883 


brightened the clear brow ; pity softened the dark eyes ; 
love, love unutterable curved the lines of the crimson lips. 

Was it strange that he should have seen her only in this 
light ? 

Kememher, he who had loved her and made her happy, 
and had wronged her and made her wretched — he had seen 
her beautiful face beaming with heavenly happiness, or 
quivering with anxiety, or darkened by despair ; but he 
had never — never once seen it distorted by passion. 

Oh, how he longed for the beautiful vision to be realized 
to him — longed and feared ! 

What would he not have given to have had her then by 
his bedside ? He felt how soft and cool her fingers would 
fall upon his fevered forehead ; he saw how lovingly her 
eyes would look on him ; he heard how sweetly her tones 
would soothe him. 

Yet it was not for all this he wanted her at his side. 

It was that he might make what atonement was yet in 
his power for the wrongs he had done her; that he might 
bow his proud manhood low at the feet of tliis meek girl, 
and ask her pardon ; that he might take her to his heart 
again, and devote his life to make hers happy. 

Oh, that he might do her some great service, and so win 
her back ! 

He wished now that she had been poor, so that he might 
have enriched her ; or sick, so that he might have taken 
her all over the world for her health ; or that she had had 
an enemy, so that he might have killed or crippled that 
enemj^ and dragged him to her feet. And here one of 
those crouching furies stirred again in his heart, and a 
feverish excitement made him irrational. 

Oh, that she were poor, or ill, or abused, that he might 
enrich her, or serve her, or defend her, and so win the right 
to ask her forgiveness ! 

But she was none of these. She was as independent of 


884 


THE bride’s fate. 


him as any queen could be. She was immensely wealthy, 
perfectly healthy, and highly esteemed; and, finally, no 
one had ever abused her but himself ; and on himself only 
could he take vengeance. He was an utter bankrupt, 
without the power of bringing any offering to her feet in 
exchange for her mercy. 

When tortured by these thoughts, he would so toss and 
groan as to raise his fever and inflame his wounds. And 
all this very much protracted' his recovery. 

And through all this gloom and horror still he saw the 
heavenly vision, like Dante’s angel at the gates of Hell, 
and still he longed to have it realized; longed, yet feared; 
and ever he praj^’ed : 

“ Oh ! that I could do her some great service ! Oh, that 
the Lord would take pity on me and give me the power ! ” 

Alexander, among his other thoughts, of course thought 
of the duel that had laid him upon this bed of penance. 

In the natural reaction — the calmness that succeeded to 
the excitement of his passions, when reason had opportu- 
nity to act — he saw. that he had no just cause for the jeal- 
ousy that had driven him to one of the maddest acts of his 
life. 

That Prince Ernest should have admired Drusilla was 
not only natural but inevitable, since every one who was 
brought into her company did the same ; that he should 
have testified this admiration with continental enthusiasm 
seemed almost excusable ; but that his sentiments went 
further, or that Drusilla would have tolerated any atten- 
tions unworthy to be received by her, Alexander in his 
sober senses could not believe. 

Now that like the prodigal of Holy writ he had come to 
bimself, he perceived that his jealousy, like every other 
passion of his soul, had been insane in its excess and frantic 
in its exhibition. 

Now how fervently he thanked Heaven that the duel 


ALEXANDER STRIKES A LIGHT. 385 


into whicli his temporary madness had driven him had not 
resulted in death to his adversary and blood- guiltiness to 
himself. 

But — and this was a very serious question — how had the 
mad duel affected Drusilla. 

It was always, he knew, most injurious, even to the most 
innocent women, to have her name mixed up in any such 
matter. 

He himself had been very cautious in this respect; but 
had others concerned been equally so ? And, above all, 
had the duel got into the newspapers, and, if so, with how 
much exposure of the circumstances ? < 

Of course he could not tell. He longed to know ; yet he 
shrank from asking questions. He would have examined 
the papers, but they were kept out of his way, and he was 
forbidden to read. 

Thus in bitter self-communings, in remorse, in suspense 
and anxiety, the first days of his convalesence slowly wore 
away. 

Francis Tredegar had not returned and he had remained 
in the hands of the surgeon and the valet. 

And altliough he was debarred from reading the news- 
papers, and forbidden to converse, and so was left in igno- 
rance of the most important matters that concerned him, 
yet he had learned something of what had transpired near 
him since the mad duel. 

He had partly surmised and partly overheard enough to 
inform him that Prince Ernest, a frequent invalid himself, 
had at some self-sacrifice dispensed with the invaluable 
services of his own medical attendant, that he, Alexander, 
might have the advantage of that surgeon’s constant pres- 
ence at his bedside. And this circumstance led Alexander 
to a true appreciation and respect for the Austrian, who 
was as noble by nature as he was by descent. 

And there was something else he had to learn. 

24 


S86 


THE bride’s fate. 


CHAPTEE XXIX. 

Alexander’s discoveries. 

Thou turnest mine eyes into my veiy soul, 

And there I see such black and grained spots. 

As will not leave their tinct. — Shakspeake. 

One morning when he, Alick, seemed better and 
stronger than usual, the surgeon seated himself by his bed- 
side and said : 

1 should tell you that you were not forgotten or aban- 
doned by your family while you were in danger, sir.” 

By my family ! I have ” Alexander was 

about to say, “ no family,” but he caught himself in time. 

Come what might, he would not deny Drusilla and her 
child. 

— You have an uncle and a. cousin, sir,” said the sur- 
geon, finishing Alexander’s sentence, but not in the man- 
ner Alexander had first intended — an uncle and a cousin, 
sir, who were warmly interested in your welfare. General 
Lyon and Mr. Hammond, sir! They in some manner 
received information of the intended duel ; they hired a 
yacht and followed you here ; but they arrived too late ; 
they found you badly wounded and lying insensible on this 
bed. The cousin returned the same day to London ; but 
the uncle remained here until you showed signs of con- 
sciousness and gave us hopes of recovery, when — being 
suddenly called away by important business, of I know not 
what nature, he too left the island. But before going he 
made an arrangement with Mr. Tredegar, by which the 
last-named gentleman was to write every day and keep the 
general advised of the state of his nephew. Mr. Tredegar 
kept his part of the compact, I know, until be also had to 
leave.” 


Alexander’s disco series. 887 

Alexander did not reply for some moments ; and when 
he did it was merely to say : 

I thank you for telling me this.” 

Alexander fell into deep thought. Here was another 
enlightenment. Here was another subject for self-reproach, 
if not for deep remorse. 

The high-toned, tender-hearted old gentleman ! The 
frank and kindly young man ! How noble, pure and loving 
all their course had been during these family troubles, in 
comparison with his own ! How they had always stepped 
in and saved himself and his victims from the worst conse- 
quences of his violent passions. 

But for General Lyon and Bichard Hammond where 
would Drusilla now have been ? Would she, could she 
have had the strength, when discarded by him, to have 
struggled on, through her desolation, unsupported by their 
strong and tender manhood ? 

Alick groaned and tossed, as he thought of these things. 

In fact he was beginning to see himself and others in a 
new light. It seemed to him now that he had wronged 
everybody who had been brought into close companionship 
and intimate relations with himself. 

Birst, he had wronged his cousin, Anna, his earliest 
betrothed, in leaving her for Drusilla ; but that was the 
least of his offences, since the betrothal had been neither 
his work nor Anna’s, nor yet agreeable to the one or the 
other. Hext, he had wronged — most bitterly wronged — 
his young, fond, true wife, whose love and faith had never 
known the shadow of turning ; and this he now felt to be 
his greatest sin. And he had wronged his uncle, the gal- 
lant old veteran, who had always cherished him with a 
father’s affection. He had wronged his other cousin, that 
frank, affectionate, “ unlucky dog,” who was always ready 
to forgive and forget, and to be as fast friends as ever. He 
bad wronged the noble Prince Ernest, by assaulting him 


888 THE eride’s fate. 

like a bully, upon no provocation, and driving him into an 
unseemly duel. 

Good Heavens ! when he came to reckon with himself, 
whom had he not wronged whenever he had had the 
power ? 

No wonder he tossed and tumbled on his bed, and raised 
his fever, and inflamed his wounds, and protracted his 
recovery, and in other ways gave his surgeon a world of 
trouble. 

But with all, as he had a magnificent constitution, — if 
that is not too big a word to apply to a little human organ- 
ism,— he continued to convalesce. 

One day he- was permitted to sit up in bed for a few 
moments, and he felt himself much refreshed by the change 
of posture. The next day he sat up a little longer, with 
increased advantage. 

At length there came a day when the patient was so 
much better that the surgeon ventured to leave him in the 
care of the valet and of the people of the hotel, and to go 
for a holiday to the neighboring town of St. Helier’s. 

That day Alexander sat up in bed, well propped up with 
pillows, and waited on by Simms. 

The valet had trimmed him up nicely, and, at his 
request, had placed a small glass in his hands that he 
might look at his face. 

And a very pale, thin, haggard, cadaverous countenance 
it was to contemplate. And the clean-shaved chin and the 
short-cropped hair added nothing to its attractions. 

“ By my life ! I look more like a newly-discharged con- 
vict than a decent citizen or an^^thing else,” muttered 
Alexander to himself as he handed back the glass. 

“ Any more orders, sir ? ” inquired the valet. 

^‘No — yes; now that Dietz is off for a holiday, I wiL 
take some recreation too, in my own way — Simms ! ” 

Yes, sir ” 


Alexander’s discoveries. 389 


** Do you know whether they keep the files of the Lon- 
don papers here in the house ? 

I can inquire, sir.” 

« Do so.” 

The valet left the room, and, after an absence of a few 
minutes, returned with a pile of newspapers in his hands. 

Here is a file of the Times for the last month, sir,” he 
said. 

“Lay them on the foot of the bed where I can reach 
them, aad slip off the first one and give it to me.” 

“ Here it is, sir. It is the Twenty-seventh.” 

“ That is day before yesterday’s. Is there not a later 
one ? ” 

“ No, sir ; perhaps ” 

“Well?” 

“ Perhaps it is in the reading-room, sir. It must have 
come by the last boat — -yesterday’s Times must, I mean, 
sir. They tell me they always get it the day after publica- 
tion. Shall I go and see if I can find it, sir ? ” 

Yes — no,” said Alexander, quickly changing his mind 
from one purpose to another, as is often the case with con- 
valescents, and less from caprice or irresolution than from a 
momentary forgetfulness of what they really do want. 
“ No,” he repeated, suddenly remembering that he wished 
to ascertain whether any unpleasant notice had been taken 
of his foolish duel by the press. “ No — I — you needn’t go 
after the late paper just yet. I have been laid down here 
nearly a month, and have fallen so far behind the world’s 
news that I must go hack and post myself up. I will 
"begin with the paper following the one I left off with ; and 
I will glance over them all in turns to see what the world 
has been doing while I have been lying here. Give me 
the paper of the date of the second of June.” 

The valet looked through the file, and handed the 
required copy. 


890 


THE bride’s fate. 


^^Now leave the others there where I can reach them.^^ 
Yes, sir. Any more orders ? ” 

No ; you may leave the room. I will ring if I should 
want you.-’ 

Left to himself, Alexander opened the paper and glanced 
over its contents. Column after column, page after page 
of that voluminous journal passed in rapid review before 
him. But no notice of the duel was to be found in that 
number. He threw it aside and took up and as carefully 
examined another ; but with no better success. Then he 
took a third, of the date June fourth, and in it almost the 
first thing that met his eye was the paragraph of which he 
was in search. 

It was under the head Jersey,’’ and it read as fol- 
lows : 

“An ‘affair of honor’ so called came off yesterday morning, in 
the neighborhood of St. Aubins, between His Highness Prince 

E 1 of H n and his Lordship Baron K n of K n, in 

which the noble lord was the challenger. The occasion of the hos- 
tile meeting is said to have been a beautiful young widow, whose 
debut at the American Ambassadress’ ball a few days since created 
such a sensation. Fortunately for the madmen concerned, the duel 

did not end fatally for either party. The princely H n escaped 

scatheless and has returned to his own country. The noble K n 

is lying somewhat seriously wounded at St. Aubins, where it is 
hoped he will have leisure to repent his folly. Such ‘ affairs ’ are 
relics of barbarism, unworthy of an enlightened community and of 
the nineteenth century. Where were the police ? ” 

You may imagine with what feelings our chivalric Alex- 
ander read these comments. So this was the light in which 
sensible and law-abiding people viewed his heroism. 

“As for me,” said he, as he laid the paper down, “it 
serves me right ; but I am truly sorry that she has been 
even alluded to in the affair. She has not been mentioned 
by name or even by initial, however, and I*am consoled by 
that circumstance.” 

Then he turned to other parts of the paper, where he 
found something to absorb his attention and to drive the 
memory of the duel out of his mind. 


Alexander’s discoveries. 391 


“ Eh ! what is this ? 

‘ One Thousand Pounds Keward ? ’ 

“ What state-prisoner has run away now, of such impor- 
tance that a tliousand pounds is offered for his recovery ? 
said Alexander, as he looked more closely at the advertise- 
ment. 

Ah ! what’s this ? ‘ A child lost!’ — a — Heaven have 

mercy on my soul, it is Drusilla’s child 1 ” he exclaimed, 
turning even paler than he had been before, as he read the 
description of the missing boy. 

“Lost? Lost on the afternoon of the second of June? 
Let me look at the date of this paper. It is the fourth. 
Has he been found yet, I wonder ? He must have been 
found before this. Let me see — to-day is the twenty-ninth. 
He was lost twent 3 ’^-six or seven daj'^s ago. How long was 
he lost ? When was he found ? I must look over the next 
papers and judge by them. Of course the advertisement 
was discontinued when the child was found.” 

And saying this to himself, Alexander took up the 
next paper in succession, and the next after that, and 
another and another still, until he had examined some 
twenty-three or four more papers. But ah 1 in every oae 
of them appeared the advertisement for the lost child. 
And the amount of the reward offered was constantly- 
increased. 

In the first half-dozen papers it was one thousand 
pounds ; in the next it was increased to fifteen hundred ; 
after that it was raised to three thousand pounds. The 
last paper he examined was one of the date of June 
twenty-seventh, in which the advertisement was still 
standing. 

“ Good Heavens ! not found up to the day before yes- 
terday 1 Miss ing for twenty-five days ! ” exclaimed Alex- 
ander, as he iurned over and grasped the bell pull and 


892 THE bride’s fate. 

rang a peal that speedily brought Simms i.i alarm to 
his bedside. 

“ It is your wound broke out again, sir ? ” exclaimed 
the valet, seeing his master’s disturbed and excited look. 

No, it is nothing of the sort. Simms, go down stairs 
and see if you can get me the last number of the Times 
that has arrived on the Island. If it is not in the reading- 
room, or in the coffee room, or if anybody else has it, or in 
short, if you can’t procure it for me in the house, go out 
into the town and try to find it at some bookseller’s or news 
agent’s. Be quick, Simms.” 

Yes, sir, I will,” answered the man, hurrying from the 
room. 

Alexander sank back upon his pillow to wait for his serv- 
ant’s return. He had not to wait very long. 

In less than ten minutes Simms re-entered the chamber, 
bringing two papers in his hand. 

Here is the Times of yesterday morning and the Ex- 
press of yesterda}’^ evening, sir. I got them both of the 
news agent close by.” 

“ Give them to me ! ” exclaimed Alexander, eagerly 
grasping the papers. 

He hastly examined the Times. Y'es, there was the 
advertisement still standing. He turned to the Evening 
Express, and there also it stared him in the face, with a 
new date, the date of the day of publication, and with a 
still higher raised reward. 

Eive thousand pounds were now offered to any person or 
persons who should restore the child, or give such informa- 
tion as should lead to restoring him to his distracted 
mother. 

“ Not found up to yesterday evening ! Poor Drusilla ! 
poor, poor Drusilla ! and poor little Lenny ! ” groaned Alick, 
as his eyes were rivetted upon the advertisement. 

Then a bright thought struck him ; a Heavenly inspira^ 


Alexander’s discoveries. 393 

tion filled him. His countenance became eager and irra- 
diated. 

will go in search of her child ! I will devote all my 
days and nights, all my mind and all my means to the 
search ; and I will find him ! if he is not dead ! If he is 
above ground I will find him ! And when I find him I will 
go and lay him in his mother’s lap and ask her forgiveness, 
and she will grant it me for the child’s sake ! Oh ! I pray- 
ed Providence to give me the power of doing her a service, 
and now I have got it. It cannot be but I shall find her 
child, and so regain her love ! ” he murmured. 

Then looking up from his paper he called out : 

“ Simms ! ” 

The valet, who was at the other end of the room engaged 
in closing the window blinds to exclude the hot rays of the 
midday sun, turned and hurried toward the bedside. 

What o’clock is itj Simms ? ” 

quarter past twelve, sir,” answered the man, after 
consulting his silver timepiece. 

At what hour did Dr. Dietz say that he would return 
here ? ” 

At ten to-night, sir, unless something unexpected 
should turn up to cause you to require his services before 
that time. In which case, sir, I was to send a mounted 
messenger after him,” 

Not return until ten o’clock ; that is well ; for I must 
get away from this place to-day : and if he were here he 
would be sure to oppose rny doing so, and I want no con- 
troversy with my kind physician, — Simms ! ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Go fetch me a time-table of the boats that leave the 
Island today.” 

Simms vanished, and after an absence of a few minutes 
returned and said : 

If you please, sir, there are no time-tables. But the 


894 


THE bride’s fate. 


head waiter says as how the only boat that leaves St. 
Auhins for England is the steamer that sails for Southamp- 
ton at ten o’clock every morning.” 

^^Is that the only boat ? ” 

The only one that leaves St. Auhins, sir ; hut there is 
another steamer leaves St. Helier’s every afternoon at 
three o’clock for Portsmouth, sir ! ” 

“ Let me see ! How far do they call St. Helier’s from 
here ? ” 

About three miles, sir.” 

That will do. Go down stairs and tell them to send 
me my hill, including Dr. Dietz’s. And then order a fly to 
be at the door by two o’clock. And then pack up my traps 
and yours as quickly as possible. We start for England in 
an hour.” 

The valet stared at his master in speechless astonishment 
for a moment, and then gasped : 

‘^'Eor England, sir ! — In an hour, sir! ” 

Yes ! Don’t I speak plainly enough ? Be quick and 
do as I tell you.” 

But, sir, what would the doctor say ? You have never 
left your room yet since you have been wounded ! — scarcely 
left your bed, sir! Consider your health, sir! Consider 
your life ! ” 

Consider a fig’s end ! There are matters of more 
moment than my poor life that demand my presence in 
England,” said Alexander. 

“ But, sir, the doctor said ” 

“ Simms ! are you my servant, or the doctor’s ? ” demand- 
ed Alexander, sternly. 

Yours, sir, of course.” 

Then obey me at once, or I shall send you about your 
business.” 

Simms knew that he had a profitable place, and a good 
master, though a self-willed one. He had really no desire 


LITTLE LENNT’s ENEMY. 


895 


to oppose him in this or any other measure. lie was 
heartily tired of this “ beastly hole/’ as he chose to call 
one of the prettiest little maritime towms in the world. 
So, after having done his duty and relieved his conscience, 
by offering a respectful remonstrance to the proposed exer- 
tions on the part of the invalid, he yielded to circumstan- 
ces, and set himself promptly to work to obey his master’s 
orders. 

Alexander wrote a note of thanks and of partial expla- 
nation to Doctor Dietz, enclosed within it a munificent fee, 
and sent it down to the office to he handed to the surgeon 
on his return. 

Alexander was a free man and a sane one. And though . 
the people of the hotel were greatly astonished at his sud- 
den resolution to travel in his present invalid condition, and 
strongly suspected him of running away from his physi- 
cian and though they had every will to stop him, they 
had not the power to do so. 

And at two o’clock, all his arrangements having been 
completed, Alick, attended by his servant, entered the cab 
that was to take him to St. Helier’s. 

He reached there in time to catch the steamer j and at • 
hree o’clock he sailed for Portsmouth. 


CHAPTEPv XXX. 

LITTLE LENNY’s ENEMY. 

Where the haters meet 

In the crowded city’s horrible street. — BaowNiNG. 

Pina was right in her surmises as to the manner of little 
Lenny’s abduction. And he really had been carried off by 
one of the two men whom she had detected in watching 

him. 


896 


THE bride’s fate. 


And this necessitates the explanation of some circum- 
stances, which, however, did not become known until somf 
time afterward. 

It not unfrequently happens that the heirs of an estate, 
or a title long held in abeyance and supposed to be extinct, 
are poor and obscure people, quite ignorant of their connec- 
tion with, or right in such an inheritance. 

The claim recently confirmed by the House of Lords is a 
case in point. The claim to the Barony of Kilcrichtoun is 
another. 

Alexander Lyon was totally uninformed as to his right 
to the title and estate of Kilcrichtoun until his visit to 
England and Scotland, when, in searching the records of 
his mother’s family, he discovered the^facts that led to his 
subsequent action in claiming the ba^on3^ 

But the investigations that ensued developed other facts, 
and brought forward other heirs, or rather one other, who 
would surely have been the heir had Alexander been out of 
existence. 

This was a descendant of a younger sister of that ances- 
tress through whom Alexander Lyon claimed the title. 

The name of this man was Clarence Everage. He was 
that most to be pitied of all human creatures — a poor gen- 
tleman, w'ith more children than means to support them ; 
more mouths to feed than money to find food ; more intel- 
lect than integrity ; more refinement than firmness. A 
man now about thirty-five years of age, Muth a long, hope- 
less life before him ; a man with some beauty of person, 
dignit}^ of presence, and graciousness of manner ; with sen- 
sitive feelings, and delicate tastes, and soft white hands ; a 
man who loved fragrant baths and fresh linen every day ; 
and cool, clean, quiet rooms to live in ; and well-dressed, 
soft-speaking, light-stepping people about him ; and respect 
and attention and observance from all who came in contact 
with him; one who, loving to be happy and comfortable 


LITTLE Lenny’s enemy. 397 

himself, loved still more to make others happ^ and comfort- 
able j one naturally prone to confer favors than to ask 
them ; more willing to. give than to take ; naturally rather 
vain than proud, sensitive than irritable, and weak than 
wicked. 

^nd yet a man who had to live in mean lodgings in a 
gmall, dark house, in a narrow dirty street in the Strand, 
where in two musty stuffy rooms he crowded his wife, who 
was as refined and delicate as himself, and six little girls, 
who would have been beautiful had they not suffered so much 
from confined air, had food and scant clothing, 

His position really was not at fault. England, and es- 
pecially London, is so fearfully overcrowded j the competi- 
tion in all trades, professions and occupations is so hopeless- 
ly great. • 

He was an usher in a .third-rate London school, and he 
had an income barely sufficient to support himself in com- 
fort; and of course it will be said that he oughtmot to have 
married. 

Ah ! but Nature had fooled him in his youth as she fools 
so many. And yet I take that back. I will utter no such 
blasphemy against Holy Nature. No doubt Nature is al- 
ways right, and it is always well that children should be 
born, even though they should suffer cruelly and die early, 
since they are born for the eternal life, through to which 
this earthly life is but a short, rough gateway, soon passed. 

But without excusing themselves with any such hypothe- 
sis as this, the young man and young girl had followed 
Nature, taken the leap in the dark, and plunged head — no, 
heart foremost, into their imprudent marriage. And the 
natural consequences ensued. The beautiful children came, 
as unhesitatingly as if they were entering upon a heritage 
of wealth, health and happiness, instead of want, illness, 
and misery ; and every year added to their number. 

The wretched father groaned for himself and his wife. 


898 


THE bride’s fate. 


But the gentle mother reminded him that Hoaven, in 
afflicting them with lighter trials, had always spared them 
the one great trial that they never could be able to bear — 
namely, the loss of their children. Not one of the little 
ones had been taken from them. Each and all had fought 
valiantly and successfully through measles, whooping-cough, 
scarlet fever, and the rest ; but whether because of, or in 
spite of the cheap quack medicines the impoverished par- 
ents poured down their throats, I cannot say. 

It was when they were expecting their seventh child that 
Clarence Everage, who had been hunted out by Alexander 
L3mn and the lawyers, was suddenly called from his obscur- 
ity^ to bear witness in the investigation of Mr. Lyon’s claim 
to the Barony of Killicrichtoun. 

It was but a link in the chain *of evidence that he was to 
furnish. But any information he was expected to be able 
to give was as nothing compared to the tremendous revelation 
that was about to be made to himself. 

He, the poor usher, starving in a miserable third-floor 
back in Wellington street. Strand — heir-presumptive to a 
barony ! — the ancient Barony of Killcrichtoun ! And but 
for this intrusive foreigner actually Baron of Killcrichtoun 
himself. ‘ For be it remembered that Clarence Everage knew 
nothing whatever of Alexander Lyon’s wife and child. 

The investigation, as you know, terminated in Alexan- 
der’s favor. 

And this witness and self-styled heir-presumptive was 
liberally remunerated and sent home to his poor lodgings, 
pale wife and pining children, to brood over the vicissitudes 
of this life — to brood until he, whose temper had through 
all his trial's been sweet, kind and cheerful, became soured 
and embittered and sorely tempted. 

What right, he asked himself, had this man — whose 
branch of the Killcrichtoun family had been self-expatriated 
for generations — to come over here and claim the ancient 
oarony' ? 


LITTLE LENNT’s ENEMY. 899 

He was not a Scotchman, nor even an Englishman, that 
he should hold it. 

And what good did it do him, after all ? 

Beyond the mere title, the new baron cared little for the 
inheritance. He had not even visited Killcrichtoun, 
While to him, the poor usher, what a god-send, what a 
treasure, what a paradise it might have been. This estate, 
which was nothing to the wealthy Virginian, would have 
been everything to himself. 

He, had he possessed it, would have sold one-half the 
land to get funds to cultivate the other half. He would 
have pulled down the most ruinous parts of the castle to 
get materials to build up the better part of it. And he 
would have employed the starving tenants of the little 
hamlet in repairing his dwelling and tilling his ground, and 
a part of the wages he paid them would have come back to 
himself in the form of rents. 

He, the despised usher, oppressed by master and chaffed 
by pupils, would then be lord of the manor, with servants 
and tenantry dependent upon him. 

His poor wife, who was looked down upon by small shop- 
keepers and snubbed by her laundress, would be a baroness 
and “ my lady.’^ 

His pale little girls, bleached by the fogs of London, 
would grow strong and rosy On the bracing air of the 
Highlands. 

All this would happen, if only he, and not this interlop- 
ing American, were Baron ‘of Killcrichtoun. 

He brooded too constantly and profoundly over the ad- 
vantages that must have accrued to him had he been the 
fortunate inheritor of Killcrichtoun, as might have happened 
had it not been for this interloping stranger who had no 
business in the country. 

He felt a morbid interest in the foreigner who was so 
fortunate as to succeed to the title, and be able to disregard 
the small estate that came with it. 


m 


THE bride’s fate. 


He took pains to learn as much as possible of Lord Kill- 
crichtoun’s history. He was often in his lordship’s com- 
pany, in streets and shops and other common ground where 
they could meet on equal terms. He talked much to him 
and of him, and so learned more of his antecedents than 
was known to any one else out of the faniily in London. 

He often met Alexander in his well-known haunts, 
walked with him, sat with him, and smoked with him. 
Occasionally, at Alick’s invitation, he ate and drank with 
him. 

Why not ? If Lord Killcrichtoun was unmarried, as he 
was generally supposed to be, then Clarence Everage was 
heir presumptive to the title and estate. 

True, he knew that the present baron was some five or 
six years younger than himself, and in that view of the 
case there was little hope of the inheritance. 

But, on the other hand, Alexander, like the generality 
of American men, was tall and lank, thin and sallow, with 
that appearance of ill-health which was not real, but which 
was greatly enhanced by the careworn and haggard expres- 
sion of countenance which had characterized his face ever 
since his abandonment of Drusilla. 

So upon the whole, Clarence Everage, gazing gloomily 
upon Lord Killcrichtoun, thought the chances of his lord- 
ship’s death by consumption, and of his own accession to 
the title and estate, within a year or two, were very good. 

“ If only,” he said to himself, “ the fool should not in 
the meantime marry and have an heir. That would make 
the case hopeless indeed.” 

This anxiety lest Lord Killcrichtoun should marry and 
have an heir before death should claim him, so preyed upon 
the poor gentleman’s spirits that he watched over his 
lordship more carefully, and inquired about him more anx- 
iously than ever. 

In the places where they chanced to meet, he could 


LITTLE Lenny’s enemy. 401 

neither see nor hear any sign of the misfortunes he dread- 
ed. No one knew wdiether his lordship was meditating 
matrimony or not 5 no rumor of his contemplating conjugal 
life was afloat. 

Of course the impoverished gentleman in his threadbare 
coat, limp linen and broken gloves, could not go into those 
circles from which Lord Killcrichtoun would be likely to 
select a bride ; and so, though Everage in their mutual 
resorts learned nothing to alarm him, he was tormented 
with uneasiness as to what might be going on out of his 
sight in places from which bis poverty excluded him. 

He went into coffee-rooms, not to partake of the refresh- 
ments for which he could not pay, but to look at the fash- 
ionable news, longing to see at what dinners, dances, or 
conversaziones, he who was keeping him out of his estate 
had been seen, and fearing to find, under the head of 

Approaching Marriages in High Life,” some 
announcement of the calamity he so much dreaded — the 
impending marriage of the baron. But of course he never 
found anj^thing of the sort. 

I hope the fellow has too much sense-^yes, and too 
much conscience, to think of taking a wife. Men in his 
wretched state of health should never marry ; for when 
they do, they always entail their infirmities upon any chil- 
dren they may happen to have,” said Everage, with virtu- 
ous emphasis ; for his wish being father to his thought, he 
had fully persuaded himself that Alexander was in a very 
bad way — a doomed man, rushing with railroad rapidity to 
the grave. 

“If he will only refrain from marriage for a year or two 
all will be well,” said Everage to himself, as visions, not 
of wealth, rank and grandeur, but simply of independence, 
respectability and comfort floated before his eyes. 

Sitting in his small, stifling room, surrounded by his 
little pale girls and his invalid wife, breathing the heavy 


402 


THE bride’s fate 


city air, he thought of Killcriclitoun tliat might yet soon 
be his own. He saw the forests of fragrant pine and 
feathery firsj the fields of oats and barley; the streams 
full of trout and salmon ; the mountains with their game ; 
the old tower with its cool rooms. He saw his wife and 
daughters blooming with health and smiling with happi- 
ness ; he felt the bracing breezes of the Highlands fan his 
brow. Sitting in his stuffy little room, he saw and felt all 
this as in a vision, and he longed and prayed, oh how ear- 
nestly, that this vision might yet be realized. 

But a very great shock was at hand for him. 

One day, while Lord Killcrichtoun and himself were 
walking on Trafalgar square, they met a nurse and child, 
with whom his lordship immediately stopped to speak. 

At the very first sight of the child, Everage was struck 
with its unmistakable likeness to Lord Killcrichtoun. 
And when the baron took the boy in his arms, and hugged 
and kissed him with effusion, Everage looked on in surprise 
and disapprobation, for he thought that he knew his lord- 
ship was unmarried, even while he detected the relationship 
between the two. 

But Alexander took his son, and, desiring his friend and 
the child’s nurse to wait for him there, he crossed over to the 
Strand, and went into a toy shop. 

Left alone with the girl, Everage was sorely tempted to 
question her, but a sense of honor and delicacy prevented 
his doing so. 

After a few minutes, Alexander returned to the spot, 
leading the little boy, who had his hands full of to^’^s. 

“ Take him home to his mother now, nurse. The air is 
too sultry to keep him out longer,” lie said, kissing his child 
and delivering him over to Pina. 

When the girl had carried off her charge, the two gen- 
tlemen walked on a little while in silence. 

Everage, in his anxiety, was the first to speak. 


LITTLE LENNY’s ENEMY. 


403 


** That is a very handsome little hoy,” he said. 

Yes, he is a fine little fellow,” answered Alick. 

He is very like you,” continued Everage. 

I suppose he must be since even I can see the likfr» 
ness.” 

And he is very fond of you,” persevered Everage. 

“ Yes,” answered Alick in a very low tone. 

Your nephew, of course ? ” inquired Everage, after a 
little hesitation, hoping that, after all, such might be the 
relationship of the baby to the man. 

No, he is not my nephew. I have not, nor ever had, 
sister or brother to give me niece or nephew. I am a lone- 
ly man, Everage.” 

Ah ! ” sighed the other, with a look of sympathy — but 
he thought in his heart, “ So much the better ! ” 

But — he is my son, Everage ! ” said Alick, with emo- 
tion. 

Your son ? ” exclaimed the would-be heir of the 
barony. 

It was what he had at first suspected, even when he 
thought Lord Kil(^richtoun was unmarried ; but yet he was 
ill-at-ease, and, out of his anxiety, burst this exclamation : 

I did not know that you had a wife.” 

Nor have I ! nor can I ever have — that is the curse of 
my life ! But I had one once. The subject is a painful 
one, Everage ! ” 

I de^ your pardon,” said the poor gentleman, with real 
regret that he had torn open an unsuspected wound, and 
real sympathj'’ for the evident sufferings of the victim, felt 
amid all the disappointment and dismay with which he 
heard of the existence of Lord Kilcrichtoun’s son and heir, 
and the consequent blasting of all his own hopes of the in- 
heritance. 

The tone and look of sympathy touched Alexander’s 
lonely heart. He longed to speak to some one, of bis 


404 


THE bride’s fate. 


sorrows ; to some one with whom it might be discreet and 
safe to deposit the secret troubles of his life. To whom 
could he so well confide them as to this poor gentleman, 
who seemed to possess some fine feelings of delicacy and 
honor, and who was certainly by circumstances far removed 
from those circles in which Alexander would abhor to have 
his domestic miseries made known. 

There is no offence,” said Alexander, answering the last 
words of Everage, “ you could not have known the tender- 
ness of the chord you touched. And I thank you now for 
the kindness your tones and looks expressed. Come ! shall 
we hail a hansom, and go to Very’s to lunch ? ” 

Thanks, — with pleasure ! ” said Everage, who always 
keenly appreciated and enjoyed the game, the salads, and 
the wines at Very’s ; but ” — then he glanced at his rusty, 
threadbare coat, his dusty old boots, and his day-before- 
yesterday’s clean shirt-bosom. 

Oh, never mind your dress, man ! Who the mischief 
ever dresses to go to lunch in the morning ? — Cab ! ” 

The empty hansom that was passing drew up. The two 
gentlemen got into it, and Alexander gave the order : 
^Wery’s, corner of Eegent and Oxford streets.” 

Arrived at the famous restaurant, Alexander told the 
cabman to wait, and led his friend into the saloon. 

There curtained off in a snug recess, and seated at a neat 
table, upon which was arranged a relishing repast, Alexan- 
der, while making a slight pretence of eating and drinking, 
told his story, or part of it, to Clarence Everage, who lis- 
tened attentively, even while doing full justice to the good 
things set before him. 

“ You will understand now,” said Lord Killcrichtoun, in 
conclusion, ^^how it is, that though I am a husband and a 
father, I have neither wife nor child.” 

“That is very deplorable, if it is really so,” said the 
poor man, with a real compassion for sorrows that he was 


LITTLE LENNT’s ENEMY. 405 

inclined to consider mucli heavier than he had been called 
upon to endure. For what, he asked himself, were the 
worst pangs of toil, care and want compared to the grief 
that would he his portion should he, in any way, lose his 
own fond wife and dear children ? — Very, very lamenta- 
ble, if it is indeed true ! but let us hope it is not so; that 
your imagination exaggerates the circumstance. Let us 
trust that the quarrel is not irreconcilable ; that the hus- 
band has still a wife, the father still a child.” 

No, I have no wife, nor ever shall have one ; for though 
Drusilla is neither dead nor divorced, she is hopelessly es- 
tranged from me. I have no wife, nor ever shall have one.” 

“ But you have a child. He at least is not estranged 
from you.” 

“ No, but he belongs to his mother who bore’ him in peril 
of her own life, and has nurtured him tenderly and loves 
him fondly, I know. He belongs to her.” 

“ But the law gives him to you. You can claim him 
when you will.” 

But I would cut oif my right hand, I would lay down 
my life, before I would take him from his mother, or do any- 
thing else to give her pain.” 

But, man, he is your heir ! ” 

Yes, he is my heir, and only child. If he should live, 
of course he will inherit Killcrichtoun. If he should not, 
why the barony will go to some distant branch of the fam- 
ily, unearthed, in the investigation set on foot by my law- 
yers, when I laid claim to the title and estates. And — why, 
bless my soul, old fellow, it may go to you ! May it not? ” 

Failing yourself and heirs of your body, it may,” re- 
plied the poor gentleman, gravely. And then he pushed 
back his chair and showed signs of impatience to be off. 
The usher was allowed but half an hour to take his lunch, 
and even now he was due at his school-room and in danger 
of a reprimand from his principal. 


406 


THE bride’s fate. 


Alexander perceived his uneasiness and rang the hand- 
bell that stood upon the table. 

Everage took out his purse. 

Put that up, if you please, Everage. I invited you 
here ; and you are my guest,” said Alexander, taking out 
his purse. 

“ See here, Killcrichtoun ! upon one pretence or another 
you always contrive to do this thing. Now I am not go- 
ing to stand it any longer. Unless you let me foot the hill 
sometimes, and unless you let me foot it now, I can never 
lunch with you again,” said the poor gentleman, with much 
dignity ; then turning to the waiter who at that instant 
made his appearance, he added — “ Let me have our bill im- 
mediately.” 

The mercury vanished to execute the order. 

‘‘ But, really, Everage ” began Alexander. 

But, really, Killcrichtoun,” interrupted the poor gen- 
tleman, “ though this is too small a matter to dispute about, 
you must let me have my will.” 

Alexander gave way. 

The waiter came and put the hill in Everage’s hands, and 
the usher, who had that day received his second quarterns 
salary, amounting to barely fifteen pounds, paid thirty shil- 
lings for their lunch, and bestowed half a crown on the 
waiter who served them. 

Alexander sighed and groaned in the spirit as he saw 
this ; but he could do nothing on earth to prevent it, or to 
remedy it. What in the world is one to do in such a 
case with a sensitive, poor gentleman? He would bo 
alive to all your ruses, and feel hurt by the^ and defeat 
them. Alexander would rather have paid ten times the 
amount from his own ample means than seen the usher 
discharge the bill from his slender stock. 

Then they arose from the table and went back to their 
cab. 


LITTLE Lenny’s enemy. 


407 


And Alick ordered the cabman to drive to the street 
where the school-house in which Everage served was sit- 
uated, and he dropped the usher. 

I declare that up to this day Clarence Everage had en- 
tertained no idea of gaining his ends by evil means. 

But the story that he had heard from Alexander was a 
startling and curious and interesting one; and he could 
not help brooding over it and speculating upon it. Lord 
Killcrichtoun had a wife and child ! The fact at first 
view seemed very fatal to Everage’s hopes of ever suc- 
ceeding to the title ; but upon closer consideration it was 
not so. Lord Killcrichtoun was hopelessly estranged from 
his wife ; but he w'as not divorced from her, nor free to 
marry again. He had but one child, his son and heir ; 
and if anything should happen to this child, Lord Kill- 
crichtoun, in his peculiar circumstances, could not hope 
for other legal offspring, and Everage w'ould be quite se- 
cure in his position as heir-presumptive of the barony. 

And Alexander really looked paler, thinner, and more 
cadaverous than ever! Truly in much worse health than 
before ! Clearly not long for this world ! And if anything 
should happen to the child before his father’s death, 
Everage would not long be kept out of his inheritance ! 

If anything should happen to the child! Dangerous 
speculation ! In monarchies it is treason even to imagine 
the death of the sovereign. And it is so with much good 
reason, since such imaginings often realize themselves. 

It could not be treason ; but it was treachery in Clarence 
Everage even to imagine the removal of the little child 
that stood J)et ween him and the inheritance of Kilcrich- 
toun. It was not only wrong but perilous for him to do so. 
But it seemed as if he could not help it. Day and night 
he brooded over the idea, with a morbid intensity akin to 
monomania. And there was his poverty, and the pale faces 
of his poor wife and little girls, to goad him on. And 


408 


THE BRIDE S FATE. 


there was that painful computation of pounds, shillings 
and pence, that agonized straining of his soul to make his 
meagre wages meet their merest wants. And now the 
cruel extravagance into which his pride and sensitive-* 
ness had betrayed him in paying for that lunch at 
Very’s had almost ruined him for this quarter. There was 
now no possible way in which he could make the two ends 
meet for the time. 

And he knew, as only the experienced in such matters 
can know, and he dreaded as only the proud and sensitive 
can dread, the troubles that must follow — the degrading 
squabbles with his landlady, the humiliating apologies to 
the butcher and the baker — nay, the sight of his wife’s 
shabby dress and his little daughters’ all but bare feet. 

And he thought how different all this would be were ho 
the heir of Killcrichtoun, as he should be but for Alexander 
Lyon’s son. 

He thus “imagined” the death of the child and the 
advantages that must accrue to himself in that event. 
But would he have “ compassed ” the death of the child for 
any such advantages ? 

Oh, no ! not for Killcrichtoun, or a hundred Killcrich- 
touns, would he have committed such a crime. But — he 
was too prone to consider certain facts in the statistics of 
population, life and death ; how it was set down that more 
than one half the children born, died before they had at- 
tained the age of three years. He supposed little Lenny 
to be about two years and a half old. He wondered 
whether the child had passed safely through measles, 
whooping-cough, scarlet fever, and all the other perilous 
“ills” to which children’s “flesh is heir,” cr whether he 
had yet to encounter all or any of them. 

He had gathered from Lord Killcrichtoun’s narrative that 
the child lived with his mother and her friends at the 
Morley House, and that he was often taken by his nurse 
to walk in Trafalgar square and its vicinity. 


LITTLE Lenny’s enemy. 409 

And so, morning, noon, and evening, when not engaged 
in his school duties or with his family, he prowled about 
the neighborhood, to waylay little Lenny and his nurse, 
and w’atch over his health. 

One day, when no one else was very near, he saw Pina 
and her charge together, and accosted them. 

How. do you do, my little man ?” he inquired, patting 
Lenny on the head or, rather, the hat. 

“ Me not man — me itty boy,’^ answered Lenny, staring. 

Oh, little boy, are you ? Well, how do you do, little 
boy ? ’’ smiled Everage. 

“ Me very well, — how you ? ” politely responded’ Lenny. 

“ I’m very well too.” 

“ Me dad you very well too.” 

“ Thank you.” 

You dot itty boy home-? ” 

‘‘No, I’ve got no little boy at home ; but I have got six 
little girls.” 

“ Sit itty dirl ? Me habben dot itty dirl home ” 

“ Haven’t you ? what a pity ? ” 

“ You bin you itty dirl hee me ? ” 

“Yes, I’ll bring my little girls to see you,” said the 
poor gentleman, turning away from the child with some 
emotion, and beginning to talk with Pina, — who was look- 
ing on and smiling with proud delight at the bright intelli- 
gence and gracious manners of her little charge. 

“ He is a very fine little fellow, nurse,” said Everage. 

“Yes, sir; lots of ladies and gentlemen, who stop to 
speak to him, say the same,” answered Pina, gazing with 
satisfaction upon her little Lenny. 

“ And he is very like his father,” pursued Everage. 

“ Well, sir, I never could see the likeness myself, I’m 
sure,” answered the girl resentfully, and wondering how 
this stranger came to know who was little Lenny’s father. 

“ He seems to be perfectly healthy ? ” went on the 
would-be heir presumptive. 


410 


THE bride’s fate. 


Why, he never had any real illness for an hour, sir. 
Even when he was teething, he only ailed a little — nothing 
to speak of at all, sir.” 

Ah, well, he’s like a young hear — all his troubles are 
before him.” 

Indeed, sir ; then I think you are more of a bear 
yourself to be a-saying of such things ! Come, master 
Leonard, let us go home — mamma will be wanting us.” 

Dood-by ! come hee me soon,” said Lenny, holding 
out his hand to the stranger. 

“ Good-bye, my little lad ! ” said Everage, pressing the 
child’s offered hand as he turned away. 

Little Lenny and his nurse went back to the Morley 
House, and Everage bent his steps to the Newton Institute 
for Young Gentlemen. 

More than one-half the children that are born alive die 
before they reach the age of three years, do they ? Well 
— clearly this youngster belongs to the half that live ! 
Never has had any of those infantile disorders that slay 
infants of ^ two years old and under,’ with a massacre more 
terrible than that of Herod of Galilee. Ah ! but the litjble 
fellow has them all to meet, for they are sure to come, 
sooner or later ; yes, but he has a fine constitution with 
which to fight disease ; well, but still this is certain, that 
children of robust frames, full-fleshed and full-blooded, 
never get over these inflammatory fevers as easily as do 
those of thinner and feebler organization. These very 
healthy children are exceedingly apt to go off in these 
acute attacks of disease. Master Lyon, Master of Kill- 
crichtoun, you will have to take the risk with the rest.” 

Such were the reflections of Everage as he bent his steps 
that afternoon to the Newton Institute, and while he sat at 
his desk examining boys in their Latin and Greek exer- 
cises and algebraic and geometrical problems ; and while 
he sauntered sorrowfullj’^ and wearily home to his gloomy 
lodgings. 


LITTLE Lenny’s enemy. 


411 


But he hated himself with a righteous hatred for these 
evil haunting thoughts, that he had no moral power to 
exorcise. 

From what he had heard from Lord Killcrichtoun, and 
from what he had observed with his own eyes, some things 
seemed very certain. 

As that Lord Killcrichtoun would never be legally 
divorced from his first wife, and therefore would never be 
free to take a second ; that he would never be reconciled to 
her, and therefore never have another child ; that his lord- 
ship was in a very bad way and could not long hold the 
barony of Killcrichtoun ; and, finally, that little Lenny 
would be the future Baron of Killcrichtoun, unless he 
should very soon die, or — disappear ; and, finally, that 
little Lenny was not inclined to die to please anybody ! 

But there was that other alternative : — he might disap- 
pear — he might disappear as children had often done before 
now, he might disappear forever. 

I know not at what precise time this last alternative pre- 
sented itself to the poor gentleman’s mind. But it would 
not be banished, it clung to him, it tempted him, it nearly 
crazed him. 

He prowled about Trafalgar square, and waylaid little 
Lenny and his nurse, and informed himself as to the child’s 
haunts and habits. 

If Pina never spoke of this “poor white herring,” as she 
disrespectfully called him, it was because he was only one 
of several persons who, passing daily at the hours the nurse 
would be out with the child, would stop to notice him, to 
smile on him, or — when time permitted — to talk to him, 
being charmed by his infantile beauty, intelligence, and 
graciousness. And, even if the nurse had told the mother 
of this stranger’s seeming partiality for the child, the infor- 
mation would not have surprised her, for to Drusilla it 
seemed inevitable that every one who saw her peerless boy 


412 THE bride’s fate. 

must be charmed and delighted with his beauty and bright- 
ness. 

So, unsuspected and unrestricted, Everage contrived to 
see a great deal of little Lenny — a great deal more than 
even his father saw of him. 

But Alexander was entirely ignorant of theso interviews, 
for Pina did not love little Lenny’s father well enough to 
gossip with him on that or any other subject, or indeed to 
open her mouth to him with one unnecessary word. 

And the poor gentleman, for his part, took good care 
never to approach the child while his father happened to be 
near him. 

In fact, of late days, Clarence Everage had seen but lit- 
tle of Lord Killcrichtoun. Erom some latent sense of honor 
or sting of conscience, the poor gentleman had kept out of 
the way of the wealthy baron. Since Everage had been 
speculating on the chances of the child’s death or the prac- 
ticability of his disappearance,” he could not bring him- 
self to look that child’s father in the face, much less to eat 
or drink with him, as had for a time been his frequent 
custom. 

But Everage brooded over the possibility of little Len- 
ny’s disappearance,” as he called it, until, as I said, it 
tempted, blinded, crazed him. 

The vague dream “ disappearance^^ began to shape itself 
into the very distinct idea, “ abduction.” 

Children had been abducted before now, for less reason 
and with more difficulty than could be the case with this 
child ; for how great a reason, almost how just a cause, he 
said to himself, had he for abducting Leonard Lyon ; and 
how easily, in the child’s unguarded walks, might he be 
snatched up and carried off ; and how completely in crowd- 
ed London might he be concealed. 

The idea grew and formed itself into a purpose. 


THE ABDECTION. 


413 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE ABDUCTION. 

In a jumbled heap of murky buildings.— Keats. 

There was at this time a wretched old hag who, summer 
and winter, rain and shine, sat under the shadow of St. 
Mary’s le Strand begging — hut not audibly, for to have 
done so would have broken the municipal laws, and to have 
drawn the police upon her and consigned her to the work- 
house. 

On the contrary, she was ostensively peddling in a small 
way. -• In her talon-ltt^e hands she held a bundle of matchec, 
which she silently tendered to every passer by. The 
matches were worthless and were not really intended for 
sale, but onlj’- for a blind to the police and a cloak for her 
begging ; and everybody understood this as well as she did ; 
for, though she never opened her lips to ask for alms, every 
fluttering rag about her was a tongue, and every look a 
voice. 

So occasionally a passer by would drop a half-penny in 
the hand that offered the matches and then go on his way. 

But the great stream of people pouring through that 
crowded thoroughfare usually passed without noticing her ; 
for the frequency of such sights, and of much worse sights 
of misery, in the London streets, and the utter impos- 
sibility of relieving them all, hardens the hearts of the 
people. 

But the poor pity the poor. And our poor gentleman, 
passing the poor beggar twice every day, pitied her — pitied 
her, even though she had once picked his pocket of his 
coarse white linen handkerchief, and he knew the fact be» 
yond a doubt. And almost every day, in passing, he gave 


414 


THE bride’s fate. 


her a half-penny ; and once a quarter, when he got paid off, 
he gave her a sixpence. 

But in all the years in which she had sat there, and in 
which he had passed twice a day in going and returning to 
and from his employment, he had never happened to see 
any one else give her anything. 

Of course he knew that she must make something by sit- 
ting there or she would not stay ; but it was so very little 
and so very seldom, that he never knew it from personal 
observation. And from all this he concluded that she w^as 
deadly poor. 

He often wondered where she lived, how she slept, what 
she ate, with whom she kept company, and who were her 
kinsfolks, if she had any. 

That she consorted with the lowest tiliieves and vagrants, 
with the most desperate men and women ready for any 
crime, he felt morally certain. Had she not picked the 
pocket of her benefactor ? 

But, still he pitied -her and almost justified her ; for he 
knew what poverty and its bitter temptations were, and be- 
sides, while Ids charity was large his moral sense was not 
very clear ; and, poor as he was, he w^ould have lost every 
pocket-handkerchief he possessed before he would have 
prosecuted this miserable old woman, or even withheld from 
her the tri-weekly half-penny or the quarterly sixpence. 

Now, when the vague i<ilea of “ disappearance ’’ shaped 
itself into the distinct thought of abduction, and the 
thought grew into a purpose, and the purpose strengthened 
into resolution, he remembered the old woman under St. 
Mary’s le Strand, and believed that he could make her sub- 
servient to his use. 

One rainy day he went out at noon for the usual recess. 
It was a day and an hour when there were comparatively 
few passengers in the street. He went in search of the old 
woman whom he found in her accustomed place, but backed 


THE ABDUCTION. 


415 


op close against the wall to secure some partial shelter from 
the pelting rain. 

Have you no umbrella — not even an old wreck of 
lie were the first words addressed to her by Everage. 

“Umberrelly? Bless the dear gentlemah, I never hacT a 
umberrelly in my life ! How should the likes of me have a 
umberrelly ? They bees for the rich people, honey.” 

“ But your knees are getting quite wet,” said Everage. 

And so they is, dear gentleman, and I shall get the 
rheumatiz as sure as sure ! ” said the woman, taking the 
cue and beginning to whine. 

“ I shouldn’t be surprised if you did. Why do you sit 
cut here in this weather ? ” 

‘‘ Good gentleman, hadn’t I better sit here and sell my 
matches than stay at home and starve ? ” 

“ Sell your matches ? Why, that’s the identical box of 
matches you have had to sell for Heaven knows how long, 
and you haven’t sold it yet.” 

“ That is true ; but, dear gentleman, I might sell them 
to-day — I might sell them any time ! There is no telling 
when a stroke of luck might fall.” 

Everage knew she was speaking deceitfully ; but he not 
only found excuses for her, but he found in her words an 
opening for his proposition. 

“Yes,” said he, “you are quite right. There is no tell- 
ing when a streak of luck may fall — even this very day.” 

“ It has come this very day, good gentleman. Sure the 
sight of your handsome face is always lucky ; and it is 
worth while to come out and sit in the rain for the chance 
of seeing it, if one should get no other good.” 

“The sight of my face may be lucky to others ; but the 
luck is only skin deep ; it never strikes in to do the owr er 
any good,” laughed Everage, as he dropped a sixpence in 
the hag’s hand. 

“ Oh I thanky, sir ! Sure you’re the great binifactor of 


416 


THE bride’s fate. 


the poor! May the Lord ” and here she began a 

great string of blessings to which a bishop’s benediction 
wo aid seem a trifle. 

That will do. Now tell me your name. You see as 
long as I have Ifnown you I have never heard it.” 

‘‘ Eooter, sir ; Margaret Eooter, at your honor’s service ; 
born in lawful wedlock of honest parients, your worship, 
and christened in this very same church as you see before 
you Sim-Merrily-Strand,* sir, as ever was.” 

Well, Mother Kooter,” said the poor gentleman, drop- 
ping his voice to a low tone, “ would you do a service for 
me, if it should be to your own advantage ? ” 

Is it would I do a service for your honor’s worship ? ” 
said the woman, gazing on the coin in her hand and chuck- 
ling, for she readily divined that the required service was an 
unlawful one, which must be paid for handsomely ^^on the 
nail,” and ever afterwards in the shape’ of black-mail. 

And is it Margaret Looter as you ask will she do that 
service for her binnjTactor, as he has kept her from starving 
this many a da}’’ ? Aye, will I, even if it is to the setting 
on fire of Northumberland House, or Sim-Merrily-Strand 
itself. Marry come up indeed ! What has Northumber- 
land House, or Sim-Merrily-Strand either, ever done for the 
likes of me, that I should prefer them before your honor’s 
worship, whose bounty’’ have given me many a half ounce 
of tea and handful of coal ? Sim-Merrily-Strand indeed ! ” 

“ But I have no grudge against the church, or the palace 
either, and wish them no harm, but all good. The service 
I require of you is of another sort, but almost equally dan- 
gerous and needing ” 

“I don’t-care a pen’orth of gin what it needs, nor what 
it don’t, no, nor yet for the danger, so as it ain’t killing and 
hanging matter. I never could pluck up courage to take a 
life or to risk the gallows. But as for the rest — look here, 


* St. Mary’s le Strand. 


THE ABDUCTION. 


417 


your honor ! what has the likes of a poor creature like me 
to be afraid of in this world ? Is it the police ? Is it the 
judge ? Is it the gaol ? Lord love your honor, the police 
treat me better nor my own brothers, for they never punch 
my head, nor give me black eyes ! and thcr judge is a gen- 
tleman compared to my landlord, for he never turned me 
out into the street, as every one of them is sure to do 
sooner or later. And as for the prison, it is a perfect 
queen’s palace, compared to the leaky, crowded, filthy 
garret where I stop. Your honor must know 1 have been 
in both and know the differ ! So as I was taking the liberty 
to tell your honor, if the service is anything less than a 
hanging matter, I’m your woman.” 

Speak lower when you do speak ; hut do not speak at 
all when people are passing by,” said Everage, in a very 
low tone, as some street passengers hurried along. 

There, your honor, they have gone now. Now about 
this service, your honor?” said the old woman, impa- 
tiently. 

Well, it is no hanging matter, nor anything of the sort. 
But it is a secret service for all that,” replied Everage. 

“ A secret service, your honor’s w'orship ! Ah, that is 
what my heart delights in ! Ah, then, I have done more 
than one secret service for gentlemen of the highest rank ! 
aye, and for ladies too, bless them ! and got well paid for 
them besides ! enough money to have kept me in clover all 
my life, only it always got stole from me by the wretches 
in the house.” 

Well, you must take better care of the money which I 
Bhall pay you. But what was the nature of these secret 
fervices of which you speak.” 

Ah, your honor’s worship, if I were to tell you that 
they wouldn’t be a secret any longer, and neither would 
you trust such an old blabber as me with j/our secrets^’' 
•aid the old woman, leering wickedly. 

2G 


418 


THE BEIDe’s fate. 


That IS so,” said Everage ; and, besides, this is no 
place for carr3dng on a private conversation. Here comes 
another group of people quite close.” 

The group came and passed. 

^^How, then. Mother Rooter, tell me where you live, if 
you have no objection, and whether I can find jmu at home 
if I come to you this evening, so that we may arrange this 
affair,” said Everage, as soon as the coast was again clear. 

Is it where I live your honor asks me ? That’s a good 
’un ! Do you call it living? this life I lead. Ho, your 
honor, it is not living, it is lingering.” 

Where, then, do you linger ? ” 

“Well, then, sir, I draws mj’- breath and stretches my 
bones in the back attic of Ho. 9 Blood Alley, Burke Lane, 
Black Street, Blackfriars Road. All B’s, your honor. You 
can remember it by that. The house is Humber Hine. 
They keep a bone and grease shop in the cellar, and rags 
and bottles on the first floor, and all the rest of the house 
is let to lodgers, all poor, but I the. poorest, your worship.” 

“ And shall I come to you there ? ” 

“ If your worship will do me the honor.” 

“ But the house, which seems from your description to be 
a tenement house of the worst order ” 

“Aye, you may say that, your worship,” interrupted the 
old woman ; “ but what is a poor body to do ? ” 

“ I was about to observe that the house would be full, 
crowded, so much so that perhaps even your own back attic 
has other tenants.” 

“ And so it has, your honor’s worship.” 

“In which case I do not see how I am to have an oppor- 
tunity of speaking to you in private there more than 
here.” 

“ Oh, dear gentleman, if you come at nine o’clock, you’ll 
catch me alone. Sure they’ll all be out then on their 
tramps, an d they won’t be in much before morning. And 


THE ABDUCTION. 


419 


sure your honor’s worship might even trust them, seeing as 
they’re all my own family, and would be fast as fast and 
safe as safe in any secret service as I might undertake. 
And your honor knows best whether you mightn’t want 
their aid too, in sommut where they might he of use. I 
don’t know yet what your service is, your honor. You 
haven’t told me yet. But I know I am an ole ’oman, your 
honor’s worship, and might want help, in case the service 
might require strength, like the breaking into a house and 
the bringing off of a dockerment or a young lady.” 

It is none or these things, as you might have judged, 
else I should not have come. Yet it is akin to one sup<* 
position that you have advanced ; and you really may want 
help. Who are the people that share your attic room and 
your confidence ? But, hush ! here come some of the other 
passengers; wait tiH'they have gone.” 

The two conspirators were silent for a moment, and then, 
when they had their corner to themselves again, Everage 
repeated his question, and- the old woman answered : 

“Who are they? you -.ask me, sir. Well, there is, first 
of all, my two brothers, as honest, trusty lads — ” 

^^‘As ever scuttled ship, or cut a throat,”’ suggested 
Everage. 

“ Yes, that they are, sir ; and so you’ll find them,” said? 
the old woman, who did not understand, or, perhaps, did 
not distinctly hear the quotation, — “honest and trusty, and 
true and good.” 

“Although they knock your head about?” observed 
Everage, who had not forgotten that piece of news. 

“ Oh, your worship, that was drink ; it wasn’t to say 
thamP 

“ Ay! ^when the wine’s in the wit’s out,’ I suppose.” 

“Just so, your honor; though it’s precious little wine 
they gets, poor souls. It’s most in general beer, or, if 
they’re in luck, gin.” 


420 


THE BRII e’s fate. 


Aye, to be sure ! Well, if they serve me faithfully, 
they and you shall be kept in gin the rest of your lives/^ 
Oh, your honor’s worship’s reverence, that would be 
heavenly!^’ exclaimed Mrs. Kooter, with enthusiasm. 

They’ll be true to you, sir — they’ll be true to you till 
death do you part, and arterwards, sir ! and arterwards / 
for I never could see the good of being true till death and 
then turning false to you arter you’re dead, or arter they 
are.” 

“ No, to be sure. But about these brothers of yours,— 
are they the only persons, or are there any others who 
share your attic ? ” 

Well, yes, sir; there’s my grand-darter Meg, as honest 
and truthful a gal as ever ” 

“ Picked a pocket or told a falsehood.” 

‘‘No, sir, she don’t, nor she wouldn’t do nyther the one 
nor yet the other — not even in the way of business, as 
many a honest tradesman do.” 

“But that’s rather hard on the honest tradesman, is it 
not ? ” smiled Everage. 

“ Gurr-r-r ! ” exclaimed the old woman, grinning and 
showing her snags of teeth. “ Gurr-r-r ! They hunt us 
poor creatures away from their shops and stalls, accusing of 
us of prowling about to see what we can pick up, wdien all 
they theirselves is a doing of the gentlefolks to no end! 
Don’t tell me ! ” 

“ But about this girl ? Is she — your grand-daughter — 
and her uncles, the only inmates of your attic chamber?” 

“Yes, your honor, the onliest ones, and quite to be 
depended on.” 

“Very well, then, I will look in at your place at nine 
o’clock this evening.” 

“ And much good may it do your honor and us, too. 
The Lord bless you, sir. But mind and don’t forget, your 
honor’s reverence, the four B’s and Number Nine.” 


THE ABEUCTION. 


421 


I will not forget. I have it down in my note book.’^ 

And then, as another bevy of foot-passengers came hur- 
rying along the side-walk, Everage left the crone and went 
on his way. 

At a few minutes past eight, Clarence Everage found 
himself prowling down Blackfriar’s Koad in search of a 
street that I have called Black street ; but which, in fact, 
is very unfavorably known to the police under another 
name. 

He found it at length ; and looking down its cavernous 
mouth, he thought of Dora’s picture of the entrance to the 
infernal regions. 

He shuddered as he turned into Black street, and fol- 
lowed its windings down into a labyrinth of dark and lurid 
lanes and alleys, from which sunlight and fresh air must 
have been almost totally excluded, even at noonday. 

Here every sense and sentiment was shocked and re- 
volted. The streets were narrow and murky, muddy and 
filthy. The houses were old and shattered, and bent for- 
ward towards each other till the eaves of the roofs almost 
met over head, shutting out much of the light and the air 
that might have visited the accursed place. The sides of 
the houses were disfigured by broken and stained window 
sashes filled up with old rags and hats, and by foul and di- 
lapidated doorways, occupied, for the most part, by rum- 
stupefied men and women, and by neglected and drowsy 
children. These groups were generally* in semi-obscurity; 
but here and there a street lamp from without, or a dim 
candle from within, lighted up their misery. 

“ Heavens and earth ! ” thought Everage, holding his 
handkerchief tc his mouth and nose as he threaded his way 
through the mazes of this Gehenna in search of Blood 
Alley and Burke Lane, these must be the waste pipes of 
all London’s crime, disease and miseries ; and yes, by my 
life, this is the sink ! ” he added, stopping in the very centi-e 
of the labyrinth before Hunber Nine. 


422 


THE BRIDES FATE. 


The house was taller, older, dirtier, and more dilapidated 
than any he had yet seen. It leaned forward as if ambi- 
tious of meeting and saluting its leaning opposite tneighbor, 
and it looked as if it were in danger of toppling down in 
the attempt. 

Here also the door- way was foul and broken, and crowded 
with drunken and dirty men and women. 

Everage inquired of this group if this was Number Nine, 
and if Mother Eooter lived here. 

They stared at him for a minute without replying, and 
then all hurst out laughing, while one woman called to 
some one within the passage : 

Hallo, Meg, come here ! Here’s a gentleman a-want- 
ing of Mistress Eooter. He have come with the queen’s 
compliments to her.” 

A broad-skinned, black-haired, hare-legged gipsy of about 
fourteen years old came out of the obscurity, and accosted 
Everage. 

Be thou the gentleman as grannam was a-looking for ? ’* 

If jmur grandam is Mrs. Eooter, — yes,” answered 
Everage, scrutnizing the girl, and recognizing her from the 
description given by the crone. 

Come along then,” said Meg., leading the way fhrough 
passages and up stair-cases more foul and nauseating to 
sight and smell than even the middle of the streets had 
been — for the streets do sometimes get washed oif by rain, 
v/hereas these tenement-house passages seem never to have 
that advantage. 

Everage followed his guide up four flights of stairs, no- 
ticing, as he passed along the halls of each floor, through 
the open or half-open doors, heart-sickening and revolting 
sights of vice and misery within the room. 

At the top of the last flight of stairs himself and his 
young guide reached the attic landing. 

She beckoned and led him to a door, which she opened. 


THE ABDECTIOIT. 


423 


He followed her into a back room, with a low, sloping 
eeiling. It was wretchedly furnished, or rather bare of 
furniture, — a bed which was a mere heap of foul rags, a 
shaky little wooden table, a ricketty chair, a rusty iron 
kettle, and a cracked tea-cup and saucer were the only 
means and appliances of comfort or necessity there. 

The only person in the room was old Mother Rooter, who 
was squatted on the only chair, with her elbows on her 
knees and her head in her hands. 

She got up to meet her visitor, and gave him her chair, 
saying : 

“ You are very welcome to my poor place, kind gentle- 
man. Sit down, sir.” 

And she seated herself on the side of the bed, that he 
might not hesitate to take the chair. 

He looked at the proffered seat, and took from his pocket 
a newspaper, and spread over the bottom of the chair before 
sitting down on it. 

“ Ah, sir, I see — you gentlefolks blame us a deal for be- 
ing dirty, but how can we help it? We can’t get bread 
enough to eat ; and where are we to get the extra penny to 
buy a bit of soap to wash ourselves and our houses, or the 
horn-comb to red up our hair, not to say the sixpence to 
buy a broom. Ah, sir, you gentlefolks should know what 
you are a-talking on before you blame us, poor creatures, for 
dirt ! ” 

“ I am not blaming you,” said Everage. 

And then, to change the subject, he remarked : 

You are very high up here ; you are high-up in the 
world in one sense, if you are not in another.” 

Ah, yes, sir ! but what am I to do ? The garret or the 
cellar is the choice us poor creatures has to make. All the 
house between them is too dear for the likes of us. And, 
be the same token, there’s little to choose atween them. 
It’s hard on-an ole ’oman like me to live up here j and 


424 


THE bride’s fate. 


when, of an evening, I^m a-panting np all these stairs,^ 
sir, there’s ninety on ’em, — steps, I mean, — I know it to 
my sorrow, for I have counted on ’em often, as I panted up 
’em, and stopped on every landing to catch my breath, — 
well, sir, I often think it would be better to live in a cellar. 
But then, I thinks, as once I did live in a cellar and cotch 
the rheumatism by it. So on the whole, I says to myself it 
is better to climb and to pant nor to lie flat on my back and 
groan.” 

“ And your choice was a very wise one. But listen : if 
you are faithful to me in the service you have undertaken 
to perform, you shall live in a first-floor front of any such a 
house as this, until I shall be better able to provide for you 
— which I certainly shall be, if you should be successful and 
faithful.” 

“ Bless your honor ! I will be faithful as faithful. But 
you haven’t told me yet what the service is a-going to be.” 

I came here to-night to tell you, and I will tell you now 
— but, is the coast clear ? ” anxiously inquired Everage, 
looking around and seeing that the girl, Meg, at least had 
disappeared, and that himself and the crone were alone or 
seemed to he so. 

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Rooter, “the coast is clear. My 
brothers have not left the house though, because I hinted 
to ’em as they might light upon a job.” 

“ Where are they, then ? ” 

“Up on the leads. I sent them there to wait your honor’s 
pleasure. And there they shall stay till your honor bids 
me call them down. If so be you would rather trust the 
business to me alone, I will, if I can, do it alone and they 
shall never know anything of it; but if your honor chooses 
to trust ’em, which I make bold to say — they are just trusty 
as trusty — why I’ll go call them.” 

“ Go and call them — I will take a look at them, at all 
events,” said Everage. 


THE ABDUCTION. 


425 


The beldam went ont into the passage, and climbed a 
ladder leadin'g to the open trap-door of the roof, and sum- 
moned her brothers ; and presently their heavy steps came 
lumbering down the ladder ; and she brought them into the 
presence of Everage. 

They were two ill-looking fellows enough, somewhere be- 
tween forty and fifty years of age. 

The elder was tall, sallow, black-haired and black-eyed. 

The younger was short and thick set, with broad 
shoulders, bull neck and bullet head covered with a thick 
shock of red hair. 

Both men were in rags. 

They came and stood before Everage and pulled their 
forelocks by way of salutation. 

Well, my men, are you to be trusted in a service the 
faithful performance of which will accrue to your own 
profit ? inquired Everage, as he scanned his tools.” 

!N^ow the only ideas the ruffians gained from this speech 
was that there were secret services required, for which 
money was to be paid. So one of them, the dark one, re- 
plied ; 

What we undertakes to do, your honor, that we does 
faithful. But it depends on what the service is, and how 
it pays, whether we undertakes it.” 

“ But if we undertakes it, we performs it faithful,” added 
the other, the red one. 

‘^Then, Mother Booter, secure the door; and now all 
gather around me. You two men, and you, mother, sit 
upon the bedside, and bend close to me as I sit upon the 
chair before you.” 

The three arranged themselves as their employer 
directed. 

Then he, stooping towards them, and they towards him, 
so that all their mischief-brewing heads were together, 
began in a low whisper to unfold his plans. He cam© im- 
mediately to the point. 


42G 


THE bride’s fate. 


It is a child to be carried he said, and then waited 
for the effect of his words. He saw that they were rather 
rtunning even to these reckless villains. 

A child to be carried off, your honor ! that’s not over 
easy nor yet over safe,” said the dark ruffian. 

“ Hor are you ever paid handsomely for jobs that are over 
easy and over safe ! But I can tell you one thing — it is 
not over difficult nor over dangerous.” 

Is it from a house, your honor ? ” inquired the dark 
ruffian. 

“ No, from the streets.” 

Carry off a child from the crowded streets of London, 
your honor ? That seems to be impossible,” put in the red 
ruffian. 

Hold your tongue, Koger,” said his black brother. 

Now don’t go quarrel before the gentleman ! Manners 
is manners. If so be you’re decent men, behave as sich ! ” 
put in the crone. 

I only said it was impossible to carry off a child from 
the streets of London ; and I’ll not deceive the gentleman. 
I’ll stick to it, as it is,” persisted Bed Eoger, who was call- 
ed thus by his “ pals.” 

You will find that it is very easy. I have studied it 
out and matured a plan that must be perfectly successful.” 

Let us hear it, your honor,” said the black one. 

Well, listen,” whispered Everage, in a very low voice. 
“ This child is about two years and a half old. He is the 
child of foreign parents who know not much of English 
life. He is sent out with his nurse, a black girl who wears 
a plaid turban instead of a bonnet ; you may know her by 
that. He is sent out with this girl morning and evening 
of every fair day. She is a fool, and she takes him about 
Trafalgar square and up and down the street, and to St. 
Mary Le Strand and along Fleet street. And they stop 
and gaze in the shop windows, and stand with the crowd 


THE ABDUCTION. 


427 


around every organ-grinder and monkey, and especially 
around every Punch and Judy. This is my plan. I will 
iake an opportunity to point out the nurse and child to 
Mother Pooter. She can afterwards point them out to you. 
Once having seen them, you cannot possibly mistake them. 
Are you attending to me ? ’’ 

“ With all our ears, sir,’’ answered the black villain, 
while the red one nodded emphatically. 

“ Then listen ! when you have once seen this nurse and 
child, you must watch for them, and arrange something like 
this manoeuvre between you : One must be the abductor, 
the other must be the assistant. The one who is to carry 
off the child must have in his pocket a bottle of chloroform. 
Do you know what that is ? ” 

“ Don’t we, sir ? It has saved the slitting of many a 
windpipe ! ” chuckled the red wretch. 

Very well. Let the one who is to carry off the child 
take a bottle of chloroform, which I will provide ; also a 
dark shawl. Then watch until you see the child and nurse 
standing in some crowd around a street show. Then, the 
abductor must keep very near the child, having the shawl 
and the chloroform at hand. The assistant may then go 
farther up or down the street and at the right moment 
raise the hue and cry of ^Stop thief!’ and lead the chase 
up or down the street towards the crowd in which the child 
stands. Then let him who is to carry off the child uncork 
his chloroform and have it ready, snatch up the child, throw 
the shawl quickly over his head, and run with the rest, 
shouting ^ Stop thief ! ’ at the top of his voice ; but all the 
time letting the fumes of the chloroform escape within the 
folds of the shawl, so as to overpower the child and render 
him incapable of struggling or calling out.” 

“ But it might kill the baby, and that would be murder, 
and we don’t want nothink to do with sich at no price,” 
objected the black scamp. 


428 


THE bride’s FATE- 


you think, Bill, as the gentleman would ax us to do 
murder ? I don’t. True, there might be a accident from 
chloroform, as there often bees to the ’ospitals, but that 
wouldn’t be murder,” said Red Roger. 

You’d find as the jury would bring it in murder,’^ 
answered Black Bill. 

“ There is no sort of danger. I will only put enough of 
the stuff in the bottle to quiet the child, and not enough 
even to make him insensible. Besides, am I not as respon- 
sible for the thing as you are? ” 

“Well, your honor knows best ! ” said the black scamp. 

“ And now let me go on. As soon as the child is quiet, 
leave the rushing crowd that your brother is still leading 
with his cry of ^ stop thief ; ’ leave it leisurely, and take the 
nearest cut for Blackfriar’s Road and your mother’s, no, 
sister’s room, here. Here you may conceal him until I can 
take him off your hands. Do you understand this ? ” 

“ Yes, your honor. But now, how about the pay ? ” 

“ You shall have five pounds each down, as soon as I see 
the child in your hands. You shall have all the jewelry 
that you find upon his person, which, as I have seen pearls 
and turquoise among them, may amount to as much more, 
or twice as much more. And finally, when I shall reap the 
advantage that I expect from this child’s disappearance, 
you shall have a comfortable income from me for the rest 
of your lives.” 

The men wrangled and haggled with their employer for 
a higher price for their crime, and after much dispute 
obtained their own terms — ten pounds each down and a 
crown a week for keeping the child.” 

After thisjEverage left the house, promising to see Mother 
Rooter at her stall the next day, and every day, until he 
should have a chance of pointing out the boy and nurse to 
her, that she might afterwards show them to her brothers. 

Everage kept his word, and the next morning stopped on 


THE ABDUCTION. 


429 


his way to his school, to leave a bottle of chloroform on 


Mother Eooter’s stand, and to watch for the possible 
appearance of little Lenny and his nurse, on their morning 


W0^^’ ” 



wonderful luck, for pres- 


ently came Pina leading little Lenny, by the hand. 

They passed quite close to where the crone squatted and 
Everage stood. They seemed to be going up Fleet street, 
upon some little shopping errand. 

Everage turned his back upon them until they had 
passed and had their backs to him. Then he touched the 
beldam and pointed them out to her. 

“ There they are. Shall you know them again ? 

‘•'Why, Pd know ^em among a hundred! That black 
gal, with the plaid turban on her head, isn^t easy forgot, 
nor yet the beautiful boy, with all that finery about him I 
which it’s a world’s wonder I never noticed of ’em before ! ” 
said the beldam. 

“You would not have noticed them now, perhaps, if I 
hadn’t pointed them out.” 

“ Well, maybe not, to be sure. I don’t commonly look 
after children and nurse-maids.” 

“ But you will remember them now, and take the first 
opportunity of pointing them out to your brothers.” 

“ I’ll bet you ! Beg your honor’s pardon. One or 
t’other on ’em will be here morning and evening until I 
get a chance to show ’em. And be the same token, here 
comes Bill now.” 

“ So he does ; well, keep him here till the nurse and 
child return ; they will have to come back this way ; and 
then you can point them out to him. And now my time is 
up,” said the poor gentleman, looking at his gold repeater, 
a family heirloom, the sole relic of better days that had not 
yet been dedicated to the necessities of his wife and chil- 
dren ; but was destined soon to be sacrificed to raise money 
to pay the instruments of his meditated crime. 


430 


THE bride’s fate. 


Everage then hurried away to his school duties, leaving 
the^ beldam and her accomplice to carry out his instructions. 

As you, of course, already know, the plot was accom- 
plished. 

Little Lenny was carried oif in the manner planned by 
Everage ; and afterwards described by Pina. 

He was a brave little fellow, and when he saw a great 
crowd of people rushing on and crying, “ Stop thief ; ” and 
when he felt himself caught up in the arms of a strange 
man, and hurried along with the rest, he only supposed 
some frolic was afoot, and he laughed and shouted, “ Top 
Teef ! with all the strength of his baby lungs. 

But soon the fumes of the chloroform overpowered him, 
and his head dropped on the shoulder of his captor. 

Black Bill, keeping the old shawl over the child, taking 
his way through the darkened streets and lanes, at length 
bore his prize safely to Number Nine Blood Alley. 

He hurried up stairs to the attic room and placed the 
still unconscious child in the arms of the beldam, who was 
there seated in her only chair. 

“ There, Peg ! uncover him quick and do some’at to 
bring the life back to him,’^ said Black Bill, a little ner- 
vously, as he himself with eager hands helped to relieve 
the boy of the shawl. 

“Meg! ” called the crone to her grand-daughHr, fetch 
a cup of water here. Bill, run and fetch a little rum.^^ 

Meg, who was idling about the place, ran and fetched a 
cup of water from the nearest room-neighbor. 

hlother Kooter dipped her fingers in the cup and sprin- 
kled it in the boy’s face. The air had already half revived 
him, and the water completed the work. With a gasp and 
a sneeze the little fellow awoke. 

They gathered around him, those wretches, like a pack 
of wolves around a lamb. 

One tore off his pearl and turquoise necklace ; another 


LITTLE LENNT’s ADVENTURES. 431 

seized his hat and feather; another his sash; another hii 
jewelled armlets. AVhat a prize ! 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

LITTLE Lenny’s adventures. 

Oh ! ’tis a peerless boy, 

• • Fearless, ingenuous, courteous, capable: 

He’s all the mother’s, from the top to toe. — S hakebpbarb. 

Was little Lenny frightened when he woke up and found 
himself in that strange and wretched garret, closely sur- 
rounded by new and terrible faces ? 

Not at all. Neither by nature nor by training was the 
haby-boy a coward. The child of many generations of he- 
roes had inherited no craven fears ; the cherished darling 
of the household had been taught none. 

In a word, he was a plucky little fellow, afraid of neither 
man, beast or devil.^’ 

And there was still another reason why on this occasion 
he was not afraid. For if, as it has been written by the 
prince of poets, music hath charms to soothe tlie savage 
breast,” how much more hath beautiful and gracious child 
hood ? 

The wretched men and women, gathered around this 
pretty boy, looked on him, not with ferocious faces, but with 
smiles ; and not with the deceitful smiles whose insincerity 
a child will detect more quickly than an adult can, but real, 
heartfelt smiles, called up by seeing among them “some- 
thing better than they' had known.” 

Yes, even while they were wresting from him his little 
treasures of finery and jewelr}^, they did it with an exprea* 
sion of eagerness rather than of ferocity. 


432 


THE bride’s fate. 


And little Lenny gazed on them, turning his blue eyes 
from one to another, not in fear, but in wonder and curios- 
ity. Sometimes he was so much amused by their excite- 
ment that he laughed aloud. 

But he was as a little prince, king, or god among 
these poor creatures, and he knew it. For when Bed 
Boger unclasped and snatched his elegant pearl and tur- 
quoise necklace from his neck, he suddenly put out his 
chubby hand and snatched it back — so suddenly and un 
expectedly that he actually gained possession of it again 
before the slow and lumbering brute could prevent him. 
And after he did so he fixed his eyes indignantly upon 
the thief, and said : 

Man ! how dare you tate ’hings ’out leave ? ” 

And it was delicious to see the air of authority and 
confidence with which the baby-boy put this question. 

And whj^ not? Had he not been permitted to rule 
over his mother and cousins, and even over his godfather, 
the veteran general, who was the greatest man he knew 
in the world ? and should he not rule over these poor 
creatures? And besides, I think that Master Leonard 
Lyon, while inheriting all the graces and virtues of his 
ancient house, inherited some of its faults as well, and 
among the latter that inordinate pride of caste which is 
so very objectionable in this republican age, and that he 
looked upon this order of human creatures as rather lower 
in the scale of being than well-bred cattle. So, captive 
and helpless as he was, he looked around upon them 
with queerly mixed feelings of wonder, mirth, pity and 
disapprobation, but without a particle of fear. 

As for the red-haired ruffian, he was so astonished by 
the words and actions of the baby-boy, that he could but 
open his mouth and eyes and stare. He did not attempt 
to recover the necklace ; but of course he knew that 
the child and his jewels were both in his power all the. 
■ame. 


LITTLE Lenny's adventured. 433 

Lenny, after staring at him for a moment and receiv- 
ing no answer to his unanswerable question, turned to the 
gipsy-looking girl and asked : 

“ What you name, dirl ? ” 

“ Meg,’’ answered the girl, smiling kindly on the child. 

^^Met, you tate dis and teep it for Lenny. Me name 
Lenny,” he said, handing her the necklace. 

Meg looked up in doubt and fear to the face of her red- 
haired relative, and meeting his eye, and seeing him nod 
and wink at her, she slipped the necklace into her bosom, 
and answered the child, calling herself by the name he had 
given her ; 

“ Yes, pretty ! Met will keep it for Lenny. (Yes, and I 
wdll, too, if I can,”) she added, in a lower tone. But she 
probably knew also that the jewels must pass back into the 
custody of the red-haired ruffian before the night should bo 
over. 

But Lenny’s attention was instantly called away to 
another quarter. In fact, he needed to be constantly on the 
alert to prevent himself from being stripped and skinned by 
the thieves. 

“ You ’top, man / ” he indignantly exclaimed to Black 
Bill, who was stealing the pearl and turquoise armlets from 
his sleeve. “ Div Lenny back, minute ! ” he cried, making 
a snatch at the jewels. 

Black Bill probably felt safe in relinquishing^his prizes, 
for the time being ; for as soon as he restored them to 
Lenny, the child passed them over to the appointed keeper 
of the jewels, saying : 

Met, teep deni too for Lenn3\” 

And the girl, with a smile, put them also in her bosom. 

But presently this chosen servant seemed turning traitor 
to her little lord, for while his attention was for a moment 
called off elsewhere, he felt hands at work upon his pretty 
little blue kid gaiters, with their gold buttons. 

27 


434 


THE bride’s fate. 


‘ ’Top dat, Met ! ’Top it, Met / What you pull off my 
hoos for ? Me not do bed. ’Top it, Met / ” he cried, this 
time less in anger than in anguish to see such treachery in 
a trusted servant. 

Oh ! I want ’em so bad ! so bad ! Won’t you give ’em 
to me ? Won’t Lenny give ’em to Met ? ” pleaded the girl, 
in a wheedling tone. 

“ You want my hoos ? ” inquired Lenny, pitifully. 

Yes, so bad ! I have got no shoes.” 

“ You dot no hoos ? ” 

« No.” 

“Well, den, me div you mine. Tate off! tate off! Me 
dot more hoos home.” 

The girl took them off. And this must be said in excuse 
for her, that she was acting under the orders and under the 
eyes of her tyrannical and unscrupulous uncles. 

“ Now put on you feet ! Put on ! put on ! ” insisted 
Lenny, stooping over and looking at Meg’s sturdy naked 
limbs. “ But my hoos too ittle for you feet. You feet so 
bid ! ” he added, in astonishment, at the size of Meg’s 
“ understanding.” 

“Never mind, I can change ’em for a bigger pair,” 
answered the girl. 

Before Lenny could reply again, he was accosted by the 
bedlam, who held him on her lap and who had got posses- 
sion of his elegant little white satin hat, with its plume of 
white marabout feathers fastened with a cluster of dia- 
monds. 

“ And may I have this, my pretty, pretty bird ? ” she 
asked, holding it up to view. 

“ You dot no bonnet ? ” he inquired compassionately. 

“ No, my pretty little angel, Pve got no bonnet.” 

“ Den you have Lenny hat — Doosa div Lenny more hat 
Put on, put on!” he exclaimed, impatiently seizing his 
beautiful and costly cap, and trying to decorate with it the 
horrible head of the old hag. 


LITTLE LENNY S ADVENTURES. 435 


He was permitted to complete his purpose, to the 
unbounded mirth of the group who all burst into loud 
laughter at the ludicrous effect produced. 

When this ebullition had somewhat subsided, Lenny 
bestowed his sash upon Meg, his tiny pocket-handkerchief 
on one man, and his little gloves on another ; and then he 
said, with an air of relief; 

“ Kow, dat all — Lenny dot no more div ! Kow Lenny 
want do home see Doosa.” 

He said this with so much confidence, yet with so much 
uneasiness and longing that they all pitied him. The old 
woman asked : 

“ Who is Doosa, my little angel ? ” 

Doosa id Doosa — Lenny Doosa — Lenny pretty Mamma 
Doosa.’^ 

** His mother,” said one of the men, in a low voice. 

And then, for a few moments, nobody knew what to say, 

Lenny was the first to speak : 

‘‘ Tate me home now see Doosa. Met, I do ’id you— 
you tate me.” 

Meg was confounded for a few moments, and then her 
mother-wit came to her aid, and she answered ; 

‘‘But Doosa is coming here herself to take Lenny 
home.” 

“ Doosa tome here, tate Lenny home ? ” 

“ Yes, and Lenny must be a good boy till Doosa comes.” 

“ Doosa say so ? ” 

“ Yes, Doosa say so.” 

“ Den Lenny will — ” he said, gaping, and adding ; 

“ Lenny so seepy ! me so seepy ! ” 

“Well, then, lay on its old grannam breast, and go to 
sleep, my little angel,” said the old woman, gathering him 
up to her bosom. 

“ Ho, no, no, no ! lay on Met lap. Met dit Lenny seep,” 
he said, wriggling himself away from the crone, and going 
up to Meg. 


436 


THE bride’s fate. 


What girl does not doat on little children ? What girl, 
under these circumstances, would not have met the baby^s 
advances with delight ? 

The poor young daughter of thieves and beggars took 
the child up in her arms and looked around for a seat. 

Well, then, if you have got to nurse him, I will give 
you my chair,” said the old woman, rising and throwing 
herself down upon the bed. 

Meg took the seat and arranged the drowsy child com- 
fortably on her lap. 

Wock me ! wock me. Met ! ” said little Lenny. 

There were no rockers on the ricketty chair, hut Meg 
moved her body backwards and forwards, and so gave the 
baby the best rocking she could. 

“ Now sin’ to me, Met.” 

Meg'looked- perplexed at this request, for a moment, but 
soon recovered herself. Fortunately, Mother Goose’s melo- 
dies are the common property of infant humanity, from the 
royal palace to the rag-picker’s hut, and Meg struck up the 
nursery-classic — 

** By, BabyrBunting I ” 

She had a very sweet voice, which certainly soothed the 
child, for he listened in drowsy delight. He well under- 
stood that he himself was the Baby-Bunting in question. 
But when she sang the next line ; 

“ Popper’s gone a-hunting,’* 

He opened his sleepy eyes and said : 

No, no ; me dot no popper ! ” 

Never mind ; some Baby-Buntings have — 

“ Mommer’s gone a-milking.” 

No, no ; Lenny mammer don’t go miltin’ ! Dane do 
miltin’, and Mawy, and Suzy — down home in tountry. 
And Lenny do wid ’em too — see milt tow,” he exclaimed, 


LITTLE Lenny’s adventures. 437 


quite waking up, as the memory of the rural pleasures of 
Old Lyon Hall flashed over his mind. 

“ Well, never mind ; some mommers do, you know— 

“ Sister’s gone a-silking.” 

Lenny aint dot no sister — not one,” he said. 

“ Brother’s gone to get a skin 
To wrap my Baby-Bunting in— 

A pretty little rabbit-skin, 

To wrap my Baby-Bunting in.’^ 

‘^No, no, no ; Lenny ain’t dot no brudder. Dit do aftei 
yahbits,” said Lenny, very drowsily. 

He was almost asleep, and the girl continued her chant- 
ing ; hut presently as his eyes were about closing, he sud- 
denly started up : 

« Met ? ” 

‘ “ What does my pretty want ? ” 

“ When Doosa tomes, wate me up.” • 

Yes, that I will.” 

“ Dood night. Met ! ” 

Good nigh^J little angel ! ” 

“ Tiss me first. Met ; tiss Lenny dood-night, Met ! ” 

The girl stooped and kissed the child almost passion- 
ately, and murmured : 

Who could hurt him, the darling ? ” 

But Lenny’s eyelids were weighed down with sleep, and 
he was almost gone again, when, once more he called : 

Met, I fordot to say my p’ayers. Hear me say my 
p’ayers, Met ! ” 

And, heavy with sleep as he was, he slipped off her lap, 
knelt down at her knee, and folded his little hands, and 
bowed his little head, and opened his baby-mouth, in “ the 
simplest form of words that infant-lips can try : ” 

“ Now I ’ay me down to s’eep, 

P’ay de Lord my soul to teep; 

If I die before I wate, 

P’ay de Lord my soul to tate.’* 


438 


THE bride’s fate# 


This was the little evening prayer that had been taught 
him, with much trouble, by his mother. 

It was uttered now in a place and among people who had 
probably never heard a prayer before. 

Yet, ^perhaps, no purer orisons from priest or prelate 
arose to the throne of the Most High that night. 

Now me done. Now me do seep,” said Lenny, drow- 
sily, climbing up to Meg’s lap and putting his arms around 
her neck and nestling his head upon her bosom. 

“ Bless the darling ! ” said the girl, as she gathered him 
closer and supported him comfortably. 

And again he was almost asleep, when again he started 
up and called out again : 

«Met!” 

What is it now, my pretty ? ” 

Don’t you fordet to wate me up when mamma Doosa 
topaes.” 

No, I won’t, my pretty.’^ 

‘‘Now I do seep, sure ’nough. Dood night, Met.” 

“ Good night, little angel.” • 

“ More tiss.” 

She stooped and pressed her lips to his baby lips again. 

He opened his drowsy eyes to look at her and say : 

“ Lenny Love Met.” And with the words in his mouth 
he fell fast asleep. 

And Meg continued to rock him with a gentle motion 
and sing to him in a soothing tone. 

Meanwhile the old woman lay resting on her bed, and the 
two men sat drinking at the ricketty table. 

“ You’d better take them things to old Israel and get ’em 
out’n the way in case of accident ; and mind what he gives 
you for ’em. Them’s rale jewels, if 1 know anythink about 
rale jewels,” said the old woman from her bed. 

^ Which you don’t. Not the least. But them’s rale, 
sure enough j because it aint possible as a rich lady, rolling^ 


LITTLE Lenny’s adventures. 439 


in gold, would go for to put her onliest child into imitation 
trash,” said Black Bill. 

Well then you had better go and make sure on ’em. 
There’ll be a hue and cry next.” 

** There is a hue and a cry now, I shouldn’t wonder ; only 
it won’t come down our way.” 

Well, anyhow, why don’t you go and take the things to 
the Jew ?” 

“ Because we must wait here for the gentleman. I saw 
him on the Strand arter Bill carried off the child. He said 
he was coming to settle to night,” said Roger. 

“ One of you can stay here to see him and the other can 
go and sell the jewels.” 

‘^Not if we knows it,” laughed both the brothers, speak- 
ing at once. 

We wants to slay here together to see the gentleman 
and get the money,” said Red Roger. 

So we can have fair play and diwide it, equal, share 
and share alike,” added Black Bill. 

“ And then we wants to go together to Israel’s to sell the 
jewels and get the price,” pursued Red Roger. 

So we can diwide the same fair and equal,” added Black 
Bill. 

By this it will seem that there was no “ honor among 
thieves ” in this case. Neither would trust the other. 

Here he is now,” said Roger as a step was heard upon 
the stairs. 

A few moments after, there was a rap at the door. 

Black Bill opened it and admitted Everage. 

“ You have got the child ? ” he eagerly demanded. 

But before any one could reply, his eyes fell upon little 
Lenny sleeping on the girl Meg’s lap. 

“ Yes, as your honor sees, we’ve got him fast enough,” 
answered Roger. 

Everage approached the sleeping child and gazed in his 
tranquil face. 


440 


THE bride’s fate. 


Did he cry much ? ” he inquired, in a subdued tone. 

« ‘ Cry ? ^ ” laughed Black Bill. ‘ Cry ? ’ — Lord love 
you, sir, no ! He thought it was all a frolic, and he whooped 
^stop thief ^ with the lustiest on ’em till the clorryfum 
quieted of him.” 

But when he was brought here ? ” 

“ Oh, he was asleep then.” 

Good Heaven ! ” exclaimed Everage, fairly jumping off 
his feet with fright, has he been in that state ever 
since ? ” 

Lord bless your honor, no, sir ! He woke up bright as 
a skjdark the minute we flung water in his face.” 

“And then was he frightened? Did he cry for his 
mother ? ” 

“ Lord love you, no, sir ! Never see such a plucky little 
cove. He scolded us men, and he petted Meg, and he put 
his precious little cap on the old woman’s head. Such a 
figure it made of her — ha ! ha ! ha ! — ho ! ho ! ho ! laughed 
both brothers. 

“ Then he was not terrified or distressed ? ” 

He terrified or distressed ! You ought to have heard 
how he ordered us all around until he got sleepy, and then 
he insisted on Meg’s rocking him to sleep. And she did 
it.” 

“ Has he had his supper ? ” 

“ No, your honor. He didn’t ask for no supper. Why, 
sir, his hands were full of buns when I snatched him up 
and run off with him,” said Black Bill. 

“ But if he wakes up hungry, what have you got to give 
him?” 

“ Well, unless the poor woman has a bit of bread and a 
himp of cheese, I don’t know as there’s an3^thing else.” 

“ I thought so. I must go out and buy him some milk. 
Where can I find any hereabouts ? ” 

“Well, sir, there’s a shop at the corner of the next street^ 
where they sells it. But, master, how about the pay ? ” 


LITTLE LENNY’s ADVENTURES. 441 


Oh, you shall have it,” said Everage, taking out his old 
portmonaie and drawing from its interior three ten pound 
notes, the price of his valuable jewelled gold watch and 
chain, his own seal ring, a costly microscope that had onc^ 
been his delight, and other sacred treasures spared from 
sacrifice till now. 

“ I promised you ten pounds each, I think. Here they 
are.” And he handed a note to each of his confederates. 

And now,” he said, I must go and get some milk for 
the child.” 

I will go, your worship,” said Koger. 

^‘Very well. I shall thank you. Here is a sixpence,” 
said Everage. 

If your honor pleases, I must buy a mug or summit to 
fetch it in.” 

“Here is another sixpence. And now make haste. I 
want to see the child comfortable before I leave him to- 
night.” 

“ All right, your honor ; Ifil be back in no time,” said 
Koger, starting out of the room. 

“ But — where are you going to lay him ? ” inquired Ev- 
erage, glancing at the old woman’s foul bed with a visible 
shudder. ^ 

“ Oh, your honor, it’s all right. He shall sleep with me,” 
said the crone. 

“ Ho, I would rather he should not. Can’t he sleep with 
the girl ? ” 

“ But she shares my bed, your honor.” 

“ Have you no other bedding ? ” he inquired, glancing 
around the room. 

“ Lord love you, sir, where would the likes of us get it T 
Ho, your honor, you see all we have.” 

“ Where do the men sleep ? ” 

“ La, sir, anywheres or nowheres ! most in general no- 
wheres ! If so be they happen to be at home a night 
they just fling themselves down onto the floor.” 


442 


THE bride’s fate. 


Well,” sighed the poor gentleman, I suppose there 
is no help for it to-night, and he mu-st sleep as he can ; 
but to-morrow I must get some clean bedding for his 
use. I wish you to take good care of the little fellow 
for the few hours or days he will be with you ; but I 
must get him out of the country as soon as possible.” 

With Everage “ as soon as possible ” meant as soon as 
by any means he could raise the money to do so. 

* If you please, sir ” began Meg, in a timid voice. 

‘^Well, my girl, what is it?” inquired Everage, turning 
and looking at her, and thinking what a fine frank face 
was hers, notwithstanding that she was the child and com- 
panion of thieves and outcasts. 

^^If you please, sir, I would not lay him on that bed. 
He aint hardened to it, and he could not sleep, sir. It is 
full of bugs,” said Meg. 

“ But what’s to be done ? You can’t hold him in your 
arms all night.” 

“ Deed I’d sooner do it, sir, than see him eat up alive. 
But please, sir, if so be I might make so bold ” 

^‘Yes, yes, to be sure. Go on.” 

— “ The shops is all open yet, sir, and if so be as you 
could send out anjp buy him a little clean blanket — a 
coarse one would do — I could make him a pallet in the 
corner of the room and cover him over with his own little 
mantle,” said Meg. 

“ Well thought of, my girl. How much will it take to 
buy one ? ” inquired Everage, for his funds were very, very 

low. 

A crown would do it — maybe less.” 

Can you do this errand for me, my man ? ” inquired 
Everage, turning to Black Bill. 

^^If your honor wills; but it will take seven shillings at 
the least,” said the ruffian. 

Everage produced the required amount and handed it 
over to the man, who arose and lounged out of the room. 


LITTLE Lenny’s adventures. 443 


** And now I must not forget this,” said Everage, pick- 
ing up a bundle he had brought in with him, unrolling it, 
and displaying a full suit of baby’s clothing, including the 
night-gown, all of the cheapest and plainest material, faded 
and patched, but perfectly clean ; for it belonged to his own 
little two-year-old Clara, and had been privately taken from 
his wife’s bureau drawer. “He must not remain in his 
fine clothes lest he should he accidentally seen. Put this 
night-gown on him to-night, and to-morrow dress him in 
this suit ; and be sure to hide away or destroy the others. 
Ho you understand ? ” he inquired, as he passed the bundle 
over to Meg. 

“ Yes, please sir.” 

The door opened and the two brothers came in to- 
gether — Black Bill, with a small, coarse, cradle-blanket on 
his arm ; and Bed Boger, with a mug in his hand. 

Everage himself took the purchases from them, and gave 
them into the keeping of the girl, whom he trusted more 
than all the rest of the gang. 

Then he waited until he saw Meg undress the child and 
put it in his clean, patched night-gown, while little Lenny 
slept heavily the sleep of fatigue through the whole pro- 
cess. 

“ Now, if you will hold him on your knees half a minute, 
I’ll spread his pallet,” said the girl, laying the child on the 
lap of Everage. 

As soon as his pallet was prepared, she took him, still 
sleeping, and laid him on it, covering him over with his own 
little mantle. 

“ And you’d better keep the milk handy so as to give it 
to him to drink if he should wake hungry or thirsty,” said 
Everage. 

“ Yes, sir, I will. I will just fling myself down on the 
floor by his pallet, and take care of him, sir,” replied Meg. 

“ And you shall not go unrewarded for your care of him,’^ 
said the poor gentleman, loftily. 


444 


THE bride’s fate. 


And then, having given his confederates an extra cau- 
tion in regard to the child, and promised, or rather threat- 
ened, to look in the next night, Everage left the house and 
bent his steps homeward. 

Surely little Lenny’s guardian angel inspired poor Meg 
that night. She laid herself down on the bare boards 
beside his pallet, and resting her head upon her bent arm, 
with her face towards the child, watched him until she 
became too drowsy to keep her eyes open ; and even then 
she slept like a watch dog, on the alert, and at the slightest 
motion of her charge she would wake up to see if he 
wanted water, or milk, or to spread the mantle over him. 

But Lenny slept soundly until morning. 

At his usual time of waking, a little after sunrise, he 
opened his eyes. At first he stared around himself in utter 
bewilderment. Then he saw Meg bending over him, and 
he recognized her face, and he remembered the incidents 
of the preceding night. 

Why didn’t you, Met ? ” he inquired, looking reproach- 
fully in her face. 

“ Why didn’t I do what, my pretty ? ” smiled the girl. 

“ Wate me up when Doosa tomed.” 

But Doosa didn’t come, my pretty bird.” 

** Doosa didn’t tome ? ” 

“ No, pretty.” 

But Doosa say she tome.” 

So she did ; but then she said she couldn’t, and now 
sne says she will come to-day.” 

“ Tome to-day ? ” 

«Yes.” 

Tome soon ? ” 

« Yes.” 

Lenny smiled, and then all out of season, he remembered 
a certain matutinal formula that he had forgotten under hia 
unusual circumstances, and he suddenly said : 


LITTLE LENNT’s ADVENTURES. 445 

" Dood mornin’, Met ! ” 

Meg, taken all aback by this unexpected salutation, did 
not respond. , 

Dood mornin’, Met. Why don’t you say dood mornin* 
to me ? ” 

Good morning, pretty bird.” 

Me not pretty bird — me ’ittle boy.” 

‘‘ Good morning, little boy.” 

Tiss dood mornin’. Met.” 

The girl caught him up in her arms and kissed him 
enthusiastically. 

To her dark and gloomy life he had come like some 
beautiful, brilliant bird of Heaven, and she prized him and 
delighted in him. It was something of the same sort of 
natural passion that a child feels for its first wonderful wax 
doll, or its first beautiful live pet, only it was much more 
intense, inasmuch as this was a living, loving, talking doll 
— a beautiful, intelligent human pet. 

And so she kissed him, and hugged him, and shook him, 
and danced him, and prattled to him, and called him all the 
sweet names that, on such cases, spring spontaneously to 
the lips- of girls and women. 

And Lenny, in his gracious, genial nature, gave kiss for 
kiss, and caress for caress. 

I think if poor Drusilla, waking in her agony of bereave- 
ment, that same morning, could have seen, as in a magic 
glass, these two friends — the girl and the baby, — she would 
have been contented, — no, not that, but she would have 
felt comforted. 

“ Lenny love Met,” said the child, patting her cheeks. 

And ‘ Met ’ loves Lennj^ dearly, dearlj^, dearly ! and 
nobody shall hurt him — they shall kill ‘ Met ’ first ! 

Now, as hurt ” and ‘‘ kill ” were words that had never 
been introduced into this cherished baby’s vocabulary, he 
did not understand and did not know how to reply j but he 


446 


THE bride’s fate. 


felt that love was meant throughout, and he knew how t€ 
answer that. So he patted Meg’s cheeks and kissed her 
lips. 

And now as the long-lingering light of day stole into 
that wretched attic-chamber, it brought out strange 
pictures. The yellow rays of the sun, striking obliquely 
through the window in fhe roof, fell upon the corner occu- 
pied by Meg and Lenny, and lighted up a picturesque 
group, — the beautiful, golden-haired, blue-eyed baby-boy, 
fair as one of Kafael’s pictured angels, with his rosy arms 
clasped around the neck of the wild, dark, gipsyish girl, who 
held him on her lap ; and their surroundings, — the poor 
pallet, the little stone-jug of milk, the bare boards, and the 
broken walls. This was the only sunny scene in the room. 

In the shadows were other scenes, best left in darkness, 
— the beldam in her foul bed, and the two men sprawling 
on the naked floor. All these were dead to all surrounding 
life, for they were heavily sleeping off the effects of the 
last night’s gin-drinking. 

To return to the sunny ” spot occupied by the girl and 
the baby. She was still caressing him. 

“Would Lenny like his breakfast now? ” she asked. 

“ Yes, Lenny like breakfas’. But go in baf-tub first.’’ 

“ Go — where ? ” inquired the girl, quite bewildered. 

“ In baf-tub ! baf-tub ! baf-tub ! wash ! ” 

“ Oh, bath-tub ! My bonny bird, we have got no bath- 
tub here, but ^ Met ’ will wash you clean — will she ? ” 

“ Yes, Met wash.” 

“ Will Lenny be afraid to stay here while ^ Met ’ goes to 
fetch water ? ” 

“ ’Faid ? what ’faid ? ” 

“ You don’t know ? Well, I hope you never will.” 

“What ’faid? what ’faid? what ’faid?” peremptorily 
demanded this despotic little inquisitor. 

“’Faid is — bad, naughty,” said Meg, after some little 
perplexity. 


LITTLE Lenny’s adveniures. 447 

"No, Lenny not ’faid.” 

" And will Lenny let ^ Met ’ go get some water ? ” 

« Yes.” 

" And sit here and don’t move until I come ? ” 

" Yes.” 

Away ran the girl, and as quickly as she could borrow a 
bucket and fetch the water she returned to the room. 

She washed the child very thoroughly and then dressed 
nim in the clean suit that had been provided by Everage. 

" But dese aint Lenny tose,” observed the child. 

"No, Lenny has got no clean clothes here, so Lenny 
must wear these,” said the girl. 

And the child trusted her and was content with the 
answer. 

" And now Lenny will have his breakfast ? ” she asked. 

" Yes ; and Met have hers too,” answered the child. 

The girl then went to the sleeping men and felt in their 
pockets. She knew very well that both had cheated their 
employer in the matter of the price of the milk and the 
blanket that they had been sent to buy on the previous 
night, and so she judged they must have the odd change 
they had swindled Everage out of still in their possession. 

She was right. She found a sixpence in Roger’s pocket 
and two shillings in Bill’s. She replaced all the money 
except one of the shillings, which she confiscated to the 
use of the right owner, as she called Little Lenny. 

Having possessed herself of this fund, she turned to the 
child and took him by the hand, saying : 

" Will Lenny take a walk with ‘ Met ’ ? ” 

" Lenny want bekfas first.” 

" Well, we are going out to buy milk for breakfast — nice 
new milk. Will Lenny go ? ” 

" Pose Doosa tome ? ” objected the child. 

" But Doosa won’t come before we get back.” 

"Well, den Lenny go wid Met.” 


448 


THE BKIDe’s fate. 


And they walked out together down to the corner of the 
alley to the cellar, where the milk was sold. 

And Meg bought new milk and fresh rolls, and a little 
cheap white mug and plate, all for nine pence. 

And then she took Lenny back to the attic and gave him 
his breakfast clean. 

And through all this the beasts in the attic slept on. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Lenny’s experiences. 

Oh ! Btranpre new world 
That has such people in it I Shakebpbaee. 

The beldam was the first to awake. She looked at the 
child and asked if he had slept well, and if he had had 
anything to eat, and having received satisfactory answers, 
she set about preparing her own breakfast. 

It was* her daily custom, in returning home at evening, 
to pick up and put into her wallet almost any sort of trash 
she might find about the streets ; not only rags, but paper, 
straw, dry leaves, chips, sticks, and so forth. 

Of these she now made just fire enough in the rusty 
grate to boil her kettle and make her tea. 

And then she took from a small bundle a store of crusts 
and bones and broken victuals, all of which she arranged 
on the end of the ricketty table j and so she made her 
morning meal. 

“ You may have what’s left. And mind you take care of 
that child while I’m gone.” 

And with these orders, given of course to Meg, she put 
on her smashed bonnet and took her bundle of matches and 
went off to her usual haunts. And s^e did this, notwith- 


Lenny’s experiences. 449 

standing that she had received ten pounds the night before. 
Such with her was the force of habit, or of rapacity. 

After she had gone Meg made a meal of the fragments 
she had left, and washed it down with the milk, now turned 
sour, that had been provided for Lenny on the preceding 
evening. 

Then she cleared the table, and straightened the bed, 
and tidied the miserable room as well as she could. 

All this time little Lenny was watching her gravely, and 
occasionally turning his eyes w*ith solemn curiosity upon the 
sleeping men on the floor. 

When Meg had got through her house- work, even to the 
rolling up of little Lenny’s pallet, she came back to the 
child and sought to amuse him with the ancient histories 
entitled “ Red Riding Hood,” “ Goody Two Shoes,” “ Cin- 
derella,” Jack the G^iant Killer,” and so forth. 

And although of course Lenny had heard these venerable 
chronicles a hundred times before — as what child has not ? 
—he was ready to listen to them a hundred times more — as 
what child is not ? ” 

But at the end of every story he would ask : 

Met, why not Doosa tome ? ” 

Doosa will be sure to come, my pretty. How let me 
tell you another story.” 

— Tome soon ? ” 

Yes, she will come soon. How let me tell you about 
Hop-O’-My-Thumb.” 

Lenny sighed. 

Did you ever hear a baby sigh ? It is the most pathetic 
sound in nature. Fortunately they don’t often sigh j they 
generally prefer to scream. 

Another story was told ; and then a song was sung ; and 
so with telling stories and singing songs, Meg tried to com- 
fort and amuse the child. 

But at last he said again : 

28 


450 


THE bride’s fate. 


Oh^ Met ! why not Doosa tome ? I want see Doosa, it 
"bad.” And his little lips began to tremble and bis bosom 
to bea-ve. But be bad been taught that it was naughty to 
cry, so be struggled valiantly to keep from doing so. But 
how could he bear hope deferred any better than bis big- 
gers ? 

His courage at last gave way and be burst out sobbing : 

“ I want to see Doosa ! I want to see Doosa ! I want to 
see Doosa so bad ! ” 

Meg took him up in her arms and began to walk him up 
and down the room and sing to him ; but bis heart-breaking 
sobs arose above her song ; and at last in despair she her- 
self burst into tears and dropped down into her chair and 
bugged him to her heart, sobbing : 

“ Oh, my pretty, pretty boy, what can Meg do to comfort 
you ? It was such a sin to take you from your mother ! ” 

What a germ of a perfect gentleman little Lenny was ! 

As soon as he saw that his crying grieved his friend, he 
stopped short with a gasp or two, and put his arms around 
her neck, and laid his face to hers, and began to kiss and 
coax her. 

** Don’t ky. Met ; Lenny so sorry mate Meg ky ! Don’t 
ky. Met ! Lenny be dood boy — ’deed Lenny will ! Let 
Lenny wipe eye.” 

And he took up the hem of his little frock, and tried to 
stretch it up to her eyes to dry her tears. 

And she clasped, him to her heart in almost hysterical 
passion, and kissed him, and shook him, and danced him 
until he laughed. And then a sort of tacit, but well under- 
stood, compromise took place between them — that one would 
not cry if the other did not, that is if either could help it. 

It was long past noon when the men ’woke from their 
drunken sleep. 

First, Bed Boger tumbled up from the floor, rubbed hia 
eyes, stared about him, yawned, and sat down on the side 
of the bed to steady himself. 


LEN>'Y 3 EXPERIENCES. 


451 


Then he got up, and walked across the room to where 
Meg sat with the child. He stared at him for a few mo- 
ments, while little Lenny met the stare with unquailing 
eyes, and Meg trembled lest the ruffian should miss the 
shilling from his pocket ; and then, saying : 

*‘Keep that little fellow close, mind you!’^ He took 
himself off, greatly to Meg’s relief. 

Then Black Bill reared his lofty height from the hoards, 
tottered on his feet, reeled towards the table, sat down upon 
it, for a few moments, to yawn and stretch his limbs, and 
then he went away. 

These worthy gentlemen seldom breakfasted at home. 

All that day, Meg had a hard time with little Lenny. 
The poor girl told all the stories and sung all the songs she 
knew, and did her best to comfort and amuse him. And 
the baby-boy tried his best to be a little gentleman, and to 
keep his promise not to cry ; yet, every little while, he 
would burst into heart-breaking sobs and tears, and cries, 
the burden of which was : 

“ I want to see Doosa ! I want to see Doosa so much ! ” 

At length, late in the afternoon, he succumbed to the in- 
fluence of excitement, and fell asleep. And then Meg 
made his pallet with one hand, while she held him with the 
other, and laid him down. 

Leaving him asleep, she went out and spent her last 
three-pence, left of the shilling, and bought him a mug of 
milk and a penny-roll for his supper. These she brought 
home, and put away. And then she sat down to watch by 
the sleeping hoy. 

That evening Everage came in before the return of the 
others. 

“I am glad I have found you alone, my girl,” he said. 

I have brought a little money to buy some clean bedding 
for the boy, and I think I would rather trust you to spend 
it than another. Can you do it ? ” 


452 


THE bride’s fate. 


Oh yes, sir.” 

It doesn’t take much to buy cheap bedding for a baby, 
and the cheaper you can get this the better, so it is clean. 
Here are ten shillings ; will that do ? ” 

“ Yes, sir ; and if there’s any over I will keep it to buy 
milk for hhn.” 

Quite right. And now let me look at him,” said 
Everage, going up and gazing on the sleeping child. 

There was a tear resting on little Lenny’s rosy cheeks, 
which Everage in his awakening remorse could not endure 
to see ; so he quickly turned away his head, and he asked 
Meg: 

Has the child cried much to-day ? ” 

Oh yes, sir ; he has cried a great deal indeed for his 
mother.” 

“ Poor child ! But he will soon forget her, and — he shall 
be taken care of. We will get him to the Highlands after 
a while, and then he will grow into a sturdy mountaineer,” 
said Everage to himself. 

And soon after this he got up and went away. 

Later, the two men and the woman came in and drank 
themselves drunk, and then flung themselves down to sleep 
themselves sober. Little Lenny slept on in his pallet 
watched by Meg. 

So passed the first day of the child’s captivity. 

On the second and third days the old crone abandoned 
her post at St. Mary’s le Strand, and, hoping to make more 
money by the beautiful boy, dressed him in rags, and tell- 
ing him it was all for fun, and promising to take him to 
Drusilla, went out to beg with him. 

But she carefully avoided the haunts where he or she 
had been seen, and took to other quarters of the city. On 
one of these begging excursions at the Bailway Station, 
Lenny had recognized Dick and called to him, as has been 
related. But the beldam hastily covered the boy’s head 


LENNY’S EXPERIENCES. 458 

with a ragged shawl, plunged into the crowd and disap- 
peared, leaving Dick bewildered. 

On that night, when she took the child home to the 
miserable garret, she found Everage waiting there. 

Everage was in a great panic. He told her that posters 
were out all over London advertising the loss of the child, 
describing his person and dress, and offering a large reward 
for his recovery. He assured her that, if the child were 
found in their possession, the whole lot of them would be 
sent to prison and to penal servitude, and enjoined them to 
keep him very closely in the attic until a favorable oppor- 
tunity should occur of taking him out of the country. 

He promised them further and greater rewards if they 
would faithfully follow his instructions ; and having re- 
ceived their pledge to obey him, he left the house. 

Erom this day L^nny was confined to the miserable 
attic and taken care of by Meg. She watched him by 
night, and tended him by day ; she washed, dressed and 
fed him ; she tried to amuse and console him ; she sung all 
the songs she knew and told all the tales ; and she wept 
when he cried, and she smiled when he laughed ; and, 
though her nature was truthful, she told lots of lies to 
little Lenny to account for the non-appearance of Doosa, 
promising every morning that Doosa would certainly come 
that day. 

Little Lenny at first believed this ; but daily disappoint- 
ment at length disturbed his faith. And day by day he 
pined and pined, wailing in a tone of despair that nearly 
broke Meg’s heart : 

^^No, no, no, Doosa not tome. Doosa done amsayl 
Doosa done away ( ” 


454 


THE bride” 3 FATE. 


CHAPTEE XXXIV. 

THE PEACE-OFFERING. 

‘ I give thee all 
I can, no more.” 

Alexander Lyon arrived in London on the morning 
train, and in a pouring rain. He was pale and faint from 
his long illness and his fatiguing journey, but he was sus- 
tained by intense mental excitement. 

His first thought, on leaving the train, was this : 

How should he find his lost child in this boundless Baby- 
lon? 

For the advertisement in the Times, of that morning, 
had already informed him that the baby-boy was still miss- 
ing. 

Sending on his valet with his luggage to Mivart’s, he 
himself got into a cab and drove to the Morley House. 
Arrived there, he went into the reading-room to make 
inquiries, for the child might have been found, even after 
that last advertisement had been sent to the paper. 

Has the lost boy been found up to this morning ? ” he 
inquired of the bookkeeper or clerk of the house. 

^‘Xo, sir, — nor ever will be, I fearj but here is Mr, 
Hammond — perhaps he can tell you more,” answered that 
official. 

Alexander turned, and found himself face to face with 
Dick. 

They had parted in anger the last time they had spoken 
together ; but now, for different reasons, both forgot that 
anger, — Alexander, in his recovered sanity and in his grat- 
itude for Dick’s services ; and Dick himself in the frank- 
ness of his heart and the compassion he felt for the sick 
and suffering man. Their hands met, and — 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 456 

"Dick!” 

» Alick ! ” 

—were the first words they spoke. 

" Has the child been heard of? ” 

"Ho,” sighed Hammond. 

" Come out, and walk with me ; I wish to ask you about 
Aer.” 

" But it is pouring rain, and you have been ill. You 
are so still. Let us go into sooie unoccupied private parlor 
and have coffee ordered there. You will need it.” 

" J ust as you please, Dick.” 

Hammond beckoned a waiter to show them to a private 
room ; and, when they had reached it, he ordered breakfast 
for two to be brought there. 

" Now tell me of her. How is she ? How does she 
bear this heavy sorrow ? ” inquired Alexander, as soon as 
the waiter had left the room. 

" Badly enough. She scarcely ever eats or sleeps. She 
is wasted to a shadow. She is dying — she will die, unless 
the child is restored,” answered Dick. 

" The child shall be restored, if he is above ground*! ” 
said Alick, bringing his fist down heavily upon the table. 

Dick shook his head, and sighed. 

" I tell you he shall. I arose from my death-bed to seek 
for him, and find him, and bring him to his mother — and I 
will do it ! ” 

" Will you go to her and tell her that ? ” said Dick, sol- 
emnly. 

" No, I will not. . There is too pauch — too much to be 
forgiven me. I will not go near her until I can place her 
child in her arms. And, Hammond, mind, this is a confi- 
dential interview — do not speak to her of it, or of me.” 

" Certainly not, if such is your wish.” 

"Does she pray now as she used to pray in all her 
troubles ? ” 


456 


THE bride’s fate. 


** She does little else than pray ; she does nothing else 
but pray and search for her child.” 

** She search ? ” 

** Yes, she lives in a cab ; has lived so erer since tbe 
child was lost.” 

And does she believe that she will find him ? ” 

Yes. She believes 'that he is alive, and therefore to be 
found. It is her belief in that theory which keeps her 
alive through all the agony of suspense. If she thought 
he was dead she would die. I am sure of it.” 

*^Keep up that faith in her heart, Dick. Lead her to 
believe also in the restitution of her child as an event that 
may occur any day, any hour, as you know it may.” 

Dick sighed heavily. 

“ But it may ! And it shall ! I, too, sinner that I am, 
have learned to pray. I pray daily, hourly, that I may be 
permitted to find the child and bring it as a peace offering 
to my dear, injured wife’. And I shall do it. I feel sure 
that I shall.” 

“ Heaven grant that you may,” sighed Dick ; but 
recollect that already every thing has been done that expe- 
rience, interest, energy, money, skill, can do.” 

But not all that despair can do ! Oh, Dick ! I have so 
set my heart on finding this child and bringing him to his 
mother that I shall surely do it.” 

“ The Lord send it.” 

“And therefore, Dick, I want you to prepare her to 
expect the child ; or, rather, to believe it probable that he 
will soon be found ; so that when I do bring him to her 
she may not die from a shock of joy.” 

“ I will do as you request, Alick ; but I shall have to act 
witli great discretion in the matter.” 

“ Certainly you will, and you can. Does she know any- 
thing about ” Alick hesitated to name the affair of 

honor of which he was now so heartily ashamed. “ Doe« 
she know any thing about ” 


THK PEA CE- OF BRING. 457 

"Your illness in Jersey, or its cause?” said Dick, deli- 
cately coming to his help. " Of course not. We were not 
going to tell her anything to add to her troubles.” 

You were right ! But what a heartless wretch she 

must think me, to be in town and to show no interest in 
the loss of my child ! ” exclaimed Alexander. 

Dick could not help remembering that Drusilla had had 
quite cause enough to believe him a ‘^heartless wretch” 
without this. But Dick was very good-natured, so he 
said : 

" She knows that you were not in town. She went to 
your hotel at once to apprize you of the loss of your 
child ” 

" She did ! Drusilla did that ! ” exclaimed Alexander, 
interrupting him. 

Yes, she did — within an hour after the discovery was 
made, and ” 

" Biess her ! bless her ! ” fervently ejaculated Alexander. 

— “ She was told that you had left town for Southamp- 
ton. I think she received the impression that you had 
sailed for America.” 

" I am very glad of that. But is it not strange that she 
did not see that ill-natured paragraph in the papers refer- 
ring to the ” • 

" Not at all. The paragraph in question was in but one 
day’s issue, and that was the day she was in her greatest 
agony about her child ; and besides, she never has looked 
at paper or book since her heavy loss. She has done noth- 
ing but pray and search, as I said before.” 

Poor child ! poor child ! Dick, tell her nothing of me. 
I do not wish that she shall see me, or hear from me, until 
I bring her the child. But give my love and thanks to my 
uncle, and tell him what I am about. But here comes 
the waiter.” 

Breakfast was brought in and arranged upon the table, 
and the friends drew up to it. 


458 


THE bride’s fate. 


Alexander ate nothing, hut he drank down in quick suc- 
cession about six cups of coffee ; for sorrow is dry,” just 
as surely as if the drunkards had never said it was, and 
made it an excuse for more drinking. 

Then Alexander got up from the table and said : 

I would like to meet you here every morning about this 
hour for a few minutes to compare notes. Would it be 
convenient or agreeable ? ” 

Certainly — both, Alick. I am entirely at your service. 
And God grant you success ! ” 

Then Alexander took up his hat and gloves, saying : 

** I am going to Police Head-Quarters first.” 

Dick laughed lugubriously. 

Alick,” he said, the detective police have been using 
their utmost skill to find the lost child. They have been 
hard at work for a month.” 

I know it, but they work in a routine ; they also have 
come to move in a groove. The thieves know the detec- 
tives’ ways by this time and elude them. I shall go about 
the business in an original manner. Good-bye, Dick. I 
thank you earnestly for all your patient forbearance and 
goodness to me. Help them to take care of my poor girl.” 

Certainly I will. But, Alick ! do you take care of 
yourself. It is very damp.” ^ 

Never fear. No one takes cold who has so much else 
to think about and do. Well, once more — good-bye till to- 
morrow, Dick.” 

And the friends shook hands and parted. 

Alexander threw himself into his cab, and drove off to 
Scotian d-yard. 

There he saw the chief of police, and had a long talk 
with him. Under the seal of confidence, he explained 
Bomothing of the circumstances of his marriage, his tempo- 
rary estrangement from his wife, who bore his family name ; 
and of his subsequent accession to the title and estate of 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 


459 


Killcrichtoun — a title which, it appeared, his wife shrank 
from sharing, until they should he reconciled. This, he 
said, he divulged that the chief might understand why it 
was that he took so deep an interest, and was willing to pay 
so high a reward, and give besides all his own time and at- 
tention for the recovery of the lost child. 

These circumstances and all others he deemed necessary 
he explained to the chief, who, by the way, had heard it all 
before from Dick, although he did not deem it discreet to 
interrupt Lord Killcrichtoun’s narrative by telling him so. 

Alexander also made some suggestions as to the best 
manner of conducting the further search, that the chief de- 
clared to have been inspired. 

After leaving Scotland Yard, Alexander went to his 
apartments at Mivart’s, where he found that his valet had 
unpacked and arranged his clothes and toilet apparatus, and 
had brought up the letters and papers that had accumulated 
for him during his absence. 

He looked over his letters, hut found nothing of great 
importance. 

Then he sent for the clerk of the house and made inquir- 
ies as to who had called on him, or what had happened con- 
cerning him during the last month. 

He heard in reply several things in which we are not 
interested, and one thing in which we are, rather — namely, 
the visit of two ladies, who inquired for him in connection 
with the missing child. 

Of course he knew at once that the ladies referred to must 
have been Anna and Drusilla, and the child little Lenny. 

He made very particular inquiries concerning these visit- 
ors merely because he liked to hear of Drusilla; and having 
learned all that the clerk had to tell, he thanked and dis- 
missed him. 

For the next eight days Alexander occupied himself by 
carrying into execution all the ingenious plans he had orig- 


460 


THE bride’s fate. 


inated ibr finding the child ; hut as none of these plans suc- 
ceeded, it is not necessary to detail them. 

It was fated that the father should find the child when he 
was not looking for him, but when he was in the act of per- 
forming a piece of disinterested benevolence. 

And this is how it came about : 

Among other better thoughts that had visited Alexander 
©n his bed of illness were certain reflections in connection 
with his distant relative— our poor gentleman. His mind 
dwelt much upon the poor usher and his half-famished fam- 
ily, and he reproved himself for his late strange, incompre- 
hensible blindness, thoughtlessness and selfishness in re- 
gard to them. 

“ A wife and six children to be fed and clothed on sixty 
pounds a j^ear ! Good Heaven ! how could I have been so 
pre-occupied as not to think of this when I had the power 
to help them — I who fling away every day of my idle and 
worthless life as much as he gets for his hard work and use- 
fiilness a whole year. I ought to do something for him. I 
ought to have done it long ago. But the question is — what 
to do ? He is as proud as Satan, and he would not take 
money.” 

After much reflection, Alexander hit upon a plan of help- 
ing the poor gentleman without hurting his pride. It was 
a plan that required some considerable sacrifice on Alexan- 
der’s part ; and when you hear of it I think you will say 
that it was generous, if not magnanimous. 

On Alexander’s arrival in London, and for the first eight 
days after that, he had been so occupied with the search for 
his child that he had almost forgotten his plans for the 
relief of poor Everage ; but on this ninth day he opened 
his ej’-es in the morning with these thoughts : 

“ I have been here more than a week, and spent all my 
time, energy and ingenuity in the search, and 1 have not 
found my child yet.” 


THE PEACE-OFP BRING. 


461 


And then he fell into profound reverie, in the midst of 
which some good angel whispered to his spirit : 

You have been here eight days, intent only upon finding 
your child and taking him to his mother as a peace offering, 
and all for your owm happiness ; and you have not once 
thought of the poor gentleman and his famishing family.’’ 

“ Ko, I have not,” said Alexander to himself, when it 
would have required no more than fifteen minutes to have 
done it either. I will find time to see poor Everage to-day, 
and put him out of his misery.” 

And he kept his word. 

He knew exactly where the Newton Institute was situ- 
ated, and he knew the hour of the afternoon at which the 
boys were dismissed, and at that hour he walked towards 
the Institute to meet Everage as the latter should come out 
after his pupils. He met first a troop of hoys, and after- 
wards saw him come creeping along. But oh ! how 
changed since Alexander had last seen him ! He was now 
pale, thin, haggard, and somewhat gray. His eyes were 
cast down, and his shoulders -were bowed, and he crept 
along like an old man of eighty. 

The truth is that the poor gentleman had mistaken his 
vocation — it was not that of a deep-dyed villain ; he had no 
genius for crime, and, moreover, he had no stomach for it ; 
it did not agree with him ; he could not digest it; it made 
him ill, and was like to kill him unless he could get it off 
his stomach, or — his conscience.” 

His passions, his poverty, and his temptations had drawn 
him on to a deed which, just as soon as it was done, filled 
his soul with a corroding remorse. 

Of all who suffered from the abduction of little Lenny, 
Clarence Everage, the abductor, suffered the most. Every 
night he was drawn by some irresistible influence to look 
upon his little victim. 

He was himself a very loving father, and be had a littl® 


462 


IHE bride’s fate. 


girl of Lenny’s age, who was his favorite child, named 
Clara, after himself ; and when he saw poor Lenny fading 
in the close confinement of that dark, damp attic, and for 
the want of sunshine, and weeping and wailing for his 
mother, the sinners remorse was intensified to agony. He 
let his own family suffer that he might bring a few dainties 
to little Lenny. 

The other lodgers in the house, who had never had a 
glimpse of the haby-boy, hut who knew that a child had 
been put to mind ” with Mother Rooter, and w'ho saw 
this poor, shabby gentleman come every night to bring it 
goodies,” jumped to the natural conclusion that he was 
the father of the boy, whom for some reason or other he was 
keeping in concealment ; and this supposition shut out the 
suspicion that little Lenny was the missing child whose 
loss was posted all over London. We who know the facts 
easily see the connection between the two sets of circum- 
stances ; but they who did not even suspect them, could see 
no such relations. 

So deep was the remorse of poor Everage, that it not 
only dried up his blood, and wasted his flesh, and bowed 
his frame, and blanched his hair, but it drove him to the 
desperate determination to take the child and go to police 
head-quarters and give himself up as its abductor. And 
so fixed was his resolution that he was only waiting for his 
wife to get safely over her confinement, which was daily 
expected, before he should do this. 

In this very frame of mind, and thinking of this very 
purpose, he came down the street to where Alexander was 
w’aiting for him. 

“ I’oor soul ! ” thought Alick, as he gazed upon him, 
he is ageing veiy fast. His cares are too much for him. 
Or, perhaps, he has been ill, or in some distress even 
greater than usual. I ought to have looked after him long 
ago. I will do it at once.” 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 


463 


And Alick quickened his steps to overtake the poor gen- 
tleman, who, in his deep pre-occupation of mind, had 
passed without even lifting his eyes from the ground. 

Alexander quickly overtook him, and, lightly touching 
his arm, said : 

“ Everage ? ” 

The poor gentleman started, turned around, and, seeing 
Alexander, looked aghast, as a criminal might at a consta- 
ble. 

How do you do, Everage ? I fear you have been ill,^' 
said Alick. 

Everage shook in every limb, and said nothing. 

“ You have been ill, that is plain enough ! Come — shall 
we hail a cab, and go to Very’s ? It is my turn now, you 
remember,” said Alick cheerfully. 

But Everage continued to gaze at him aghast, until at 
length he got breath enough to gasp : 

Good Heaven, my lord, is it you ? ” 

Gome, Everage ; your nerves are all unstrung, and you 
shocked to see me looking so like a ghost. Indeed, I had 
liked to have been one. But here I am, alive at least, and 
likely to get well. Come — shall it be Very’s?” 

“ Ho, no, no — not that ! ^ groaned the poor gentleman. 

“ The green-turtle soup is prime ; now shall we go to 
that place in the Exchange?” 

Ho, no, no. Lord Killcrichtoun ! I can go nowhere to 
eat or to drink with you ! I cannot ! I cannot ! Heaven 
have mercy on me ! I am a lost soul.” 

“ Why, what is the matter with you, Everage ? ” 

«I am ill, ill, ill!” 

Your nervous system is broken down ; life has been 
too hard with you, my friend ! But come — I have news 
for you that will cheer you up ! Let us drop into the 
nearest tavern, and get a private room, where we may con- 


464 


TKE bride’s fate. 


verse confidentially, — here is the ^ King’s Head ’ near, shall 
we go there and have something co-mfortable ? ” 

No, no, no ; I told you I would go nowhere to eat or 
drink with you, my lord !*” 

Is your digestive apparatus so much out of order as all 
that? Well, then, if we don’t go to eat and drink, we 
will go to talk. I tell you I have news for you — ‘ you will 
hear of something to your advantage,’ as the mysterious 
newspaper paragraphs say.” 

Well, well, I will go with you, my lord ; and perhaps I 
will tell you ^ something to ^our advantage,’ ” he mutter- 
ed, in a low tone. 

So they went to the “ King’s Head,” and Alick called for 
a private parlor, where they sat down to talk. 

Everage,” said Alick, gravelv, “ I have had a long and 
dangerous fit of illness, from which I have scarcely yet 
recovered.” 

“ Indeed, my lord ! I had not heard of it ; but, really, 
now I observe that you do not look well. I am sorry, my 
lord.” 

‘^Everage, you heard of the affair in which I was 
engaged ? the — ” 

The word stuck in his throat ; he would not utter it. 

Everage looked puzzled for a moment. 

“You know — the affair in which I was engaged in 
Jersey ? the ” 

“ Oh, yes, certainly, my lord ; I heard of the 

And, in courtes}'’, the poor gentleman paused exactly 
where his friend had done. 

“Well, Everage, I was severely wounded, and, in the ill- 
ness that followed, I came nearer facing my Judge than I 
ever expected to do, without hearing my sentence. In the 
convalesence that followed, you may believe that I was 
brought to very serious reflection. Among other subjects, 
I thought of you, Everage, and took myself to task for not 


THE P E A C E-0 F F E R I N a. 


465 


having done so before — nay, now, do not shrink and turn 
from me ; I mean no such an impertinence as patronage to 
you, Everage. I would just as soon venture to patronize 
one of the royal princes. But I thought of a plan for im- 
proving the circumstances of your family, which even you 
might meet without detriment to your honest pride.” 

Oh, Heaven ! oh. Heaven, have mercy on me ! ” groaned 
the poor gentleman. 

Everage, you are exhausted; you really must have 
something,” said Alick. 

And he rang for a waiter, and ordered brandy ; which 
was quickly brought. 

Everage gulped a small glassful and then said : 

You thought of me — you thought of me on your sick- 
bed ! You think of me still in your days of deep affliction I 
for you cannot have -come to London without learning the 
loss of ” 

Everage’s voice broke down in sobs. 

My child ? yes ; I learned the loss from the newspapers 
— from the very first newspapers that fell into my hands 
after I was convalescent. I have thought of little else 
since my arrival. For the last eight days, I have done 
nothing but devise and carry out plans for his recovery. 
But, this morning, I remembered you and your affairs, and 

reproached myself for forgetting them. So, now 

But, about your child, — how can you think of any one 
or of any thing while he is missing ? ” 

Because I cherish a great faith that I shall soon find 
him. But about your affairs. I wish to speak of themf* 
said Alick. 

The poor gentleman waved his hand with a gesture of 
resignation and became silent. 

“Everage, on that bed of illness and self-examination 
I made many a retrospection of my past life, and many a 
♦^solution for my future one. Among my retrospections 
29 


466 


THE bride’s fate. 


was a review of my motives in going to so much trouble 
and expense in establishing my claim to the Barony of Kill- 
crichtoun, which I really did not want. I believe now that 
my only incentives to that action were idleness and ennui. 
I had nothing to do ; and I was weary of my life. But 
having made the discovery of my descent from the old 
baron, I took some little interest in tracing back the line- 
age ; and found some little excitement in following up the 
investigation and proving my claim. But as soon as all 
that was over and I found myself addressed on all sides as 
‘ Lord Killcrichtoun,’ ‘ your lordship,’ and ^ my lord/ — on 
my soul, Everage, I felt heartily ashamed of myself and 
title ” 

“ Yet it is an ancient and an honorable title,” sighed the 
poor gentleman, and he thought — “ He values it so lightly, 
this proud Virginian, while I — I have staked my soul upon 
the bare chance of some day gaining it ! ” 

“ Yes, it is* an ancient and honorable title ; and it would 
well become an English heir — it would well become your- 
self,' Everage ! And but for me you would have been the 
bearer of it.” 

But for you, my lord, I should never have heard of my 
remote connection with it.” 

“ Everage, my friend, will you do me the favor to leave 
out all reference to that title in speaking to me ? To hear 
it so applied makes me feel like a fool ; and that is a fact. 
I am a plain Bepublican gentleman, a little proud, or 
perhaps I should say, conceited, on account of my old 
State, and still more so in respect of my native country ; 
but I am not such an ass as to want . to be a ^ Lord.’ 
Enough of that. What 1 have said, what I may yet say 
of myself will only be to explain my plan for you. Listen, 
Everage ; I shall not claim your attention very long.” 

“ I am listening, sir.” 

“I am going to try to be reconciled to my poor wife 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 46f 

(My illness brought me to my senses on that subject also.) 
I am going to try to be reconciled to my wife ; and then we 
are going to return to our native land. But before I do 
either — before I do anything — I shall make over the Kill- 
crichtoun estate to youP 

At this announcement the poor gentleman sprang to his 
feet, ars if he had been shot from his chair ; then, sinking 
back again, he covered his face with his hands and uttered 
such deep, heart-rending groans as could only be wrenched 
from a bosom wrung by remorse. 

Everage ! Everage ! my friend, what is the matter ? 
Good Heavens ! how nervous you are ! How shattered 
your health must be ! But j’^ou will recover your strength 
again when you leave this stifling atmosphere composed of 
smoke and fog, and get away to the bracing breezes of the 
Highlands ! said Alick, kindl3\ 

Too late ! too late ! too late ! moaned Everage. 

‘^Too late? No it isn’t. You have no fatal malady. 
You are only broken down by hard work ! You will recov- 
er in the Highlands. Think how your children will enjoy 
the freedom and fine air of the mountains. And you can 
take them to Killcrichtoun and enter on possession as soon 
as you like. The necessary deeds of conveyance of the 
land shall be made out as soon as I can get the slow law- 
yers to do it.’’ 

It is too much ! it is too much ! Great Heaven ! this 
is too much to bear ! You overwhelm me, my Lord ! ” 
groaned Everage. 

“ But why do you say so ? Everage ! look here ! I 
really do think that you have more right — a great deal 
more right to the estate than I have. You and all your 
ancestors were British born. I and my immediate progen- 
itors were American born. Wliat right had I to come over 
here and claim this title and estate ? None whatever in 
right) whatever I might have had in law. And I cannot 


468 


THE bride’s fate. 


continue to hol'd it and to transmit it to my son, unless I 
expatriate myself and become a British subject. And I 
will not do that. Therefore I do not want Killcrichtoun. 
A man is not even to he thanked for giving away what 
he donT want. As I said before, I shall make over the 
whole of the landed estate to you. I wish to Heaven I 
could also give you the title ; but that cannot be so trans- 
ferred, I believe ; so the title must be dropped 5 for, of 
course, I cannot continue to bear it in my own country— 
it would make me simply ridiculous. When, however, you 
become the owner of Killcrichtoun, although you cannot be 
the baron, yet you will have the territorial title, according 
to the custom of Scotland. You will be called ‘ Killcrich- 
toun,^ or ^ Everage of Killcrichtoun.’ Come, come ! cheer 
up, man 1 ” 

“ Too much ! it is too much ! too much and too late ! ” 
groaned the poor gentleman, as he sat with his hands 
clasped tightly around his head, his bosom heaving and 
his eyes streaming with tears. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE PEACE-OFFERING. — Continued. 

To Alick there seemed something awful in Everage’s tre- 
mendous emotion. He had been a very handsome, fine 
looking man, with that natural air of majesty and grace 
which not even the bitterness of poverty and servitude could 
take from him ; hut now^ he was all broken down. 

Deep compassion moved the heart of Alick as he gazed 
un him. 

What is the matter, Everage ? ” he softly inquired. 

Coals of fire ! Coals of fire ! ” answered the con- 


T H.E PEACE-OFFERING., 


m 


science stricken man. And covering his bowed face with 
his hands, he ^ wept bitterly,’ as repentant Peter wept. 

Alexander looked on with awe for an instant, and then 
tnrned away his head j he could not bear to see such abject 
grief. 

At length, with an effort, Everage gained a mastery over 
his passion and raised his head, and with the look of an- 
guish still upon his face, and in a voice still vibrating with 
intense emotion, he said : 

You ask me what is the matter? Pemorse is killing 
me ! Pemorse ! and now your kindness ! ” 

‘ Pemorse,’ Everage ? ” exclaimed Alexander, in con- 
sternation. 

“ Yes, remorse ! I am a criminal of the darkest dye ! I 
am not worthy to live ! ” 

“ A criminal ! — You ! ” 

Yes, I ! — a God forsaken criminal.” 

God never forsakes the greatest criminal, being penitent. 
Put you, Everage ! I cannot understand ! I cannot be- 
lieve you to be criminal,” answered Alexander, unable to 
recover from his consternation, and mentally running over 
the sins most likely to be committed by a poor gentleman 
under the influence of overpowering temptation. Was it 
embezzlement? swindling? No, he could have had no 
opportunity of dabbling in either of these. Was it for- 
gery ? Yes, it was most likely forgery. The poor usher 
had probably, under the pressure of terrible want, forged 
his employer’s name to a check, or a note, or something of 
the sort, and was now dying of remorse and shame, and 
perhaps also of terror. And Alick resolved to help him, 
if help were possible. 

Everage,” he asked kindly, do you wish to confide in 
me ? ” 

“ I wish to CONFESS to you, since the offence was com 
mitted against you,” groaned the heart-broken man. 


Against me ? ” exclaimed Alexander, in a tone of sur- 
prise that was not without pleasure ; for he instantly 
thought — Oh, if he has only forged my name to a cheque 
or a note, or any thing of the sort, it will be perfectly 
easy to save him. It will only be for me to take up the 
paper without saying any thing about it ; or, at worst, 
to acknowledge the signature.” Then, speaking softly, he 
said : 

“ Tell me everything, Everage, freely as one sinner 
speaking to another; for I, too, have sinned too deeply 
to have any sort of right to judge harshly. Speak free- 
ly, Everage.” 

Still for a moment the poor gentleman remained silent. 
He knew that, after having told all, his bosom would 
feel somewhat relieved, yet he could scarcely bring him- 
self to utter his own shame. 

“ I will tell you everything. And the more willingly 
because reparation is still in my power.” 

“ But, Everage, if such reparation should in any way 
distress you, it need not be made. Hay, if the confes- 
sion itself will distress you, withhold it, my friend. If, 
as you say, the offence is against me, you need not tell 
it ; and believe me, neither you nor any one else shall 
ever hear of it,” said Alick, kindly. 

‘‘Every gentle, generous word you speak stabs my 
heart like a reproach. I must tell you all. It will 
shame me, but it will relieve me to do so. Reparation must 
be made ; and it will not distress but comfort me to make 
it ; nay, it will almost do away my guilt. It is a measure 
that I had already resolved upon. I was only waiting 
for my poor wife to get over her impending accouchement 
before carrying it into effect ; for, in my poor Belle’s pres- 
ent critical condition, the excitement of a criminal trial 
would surely kill her. And thus my little girls would bo 
bereft of both parents.” 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 


471 


‘‘Everage, you talk wildly! If the offence is against 
me, it is already condoned. . You may reveal it or not 
as 3^ou please. For myself, I do not see the need of your 
doing so.” 

That is because you do not know the nature of my 
crime ! — Lord Killcrichtoun, it was I who caused your child 
to be abducted ! — There ! kill me where I stand if you 
like ! No one will think of blaming you,” said Everage, in 
a broken voice, as he tottered to his feet and stood before 
little Lenny’s father. 

But Alexander gazed at him in amazement and incredu- 
lity for a full minute before he found ideas or words to 
reply. Then he exclaimed : 

Everage, you are mad to think so ! What motive 
could you possibly have had for getting possession of my 
child ? You who have so many of your own ? I say you 
are mad to think it.” 

^^No,” said Everage, dropping back in his chair and 
covering his face. “ No, not mad noiv ; but I was mad 
then, when I caused the child to be carried off! I was 
mad, blind, and Heaven-forsaken ! ” 

^‘Not Heaven-forsaken, Everage, or you would not have 
been brought to this confession. But is this really true ? 
You caused the child to be carried off? You said the re- 
paration was still in your power ! — that means the child 
still lives ! Where is he ? Is he in London ? Is he in 
our reach ? Is he well ? ” inquired Alexander, scarcely 
able to control the violence of his emotions — his strangely 
mingled and warring emotions — of astonishment, indigna- 
tion, ecstasy and impatience. 

“ Yes, to all your questions,” answered Everage, dropping 
his face into his hands. 

‘^But, good Heaven, what possible motive could you 
have had for carrying off my child? You must have been 
mad ! ” 


472 


THE bride’s fate. 


was! I was, my lord! mad and blind and God- 
forsaken ! I was tempted beyond ” 

Stop, Everage ! don’t tell me just now. I must see my 
boy immediately. Can you take me to Jiim now ? ” 

Yes,” answered tbe poor gentleman, in an almost inau- 
dible voice. 

How far is it ? ” asked Alexander, with hid hand upon 
the bell. 

About two miles from here,” breathed Everage. 

Then we must have a carriage,” observed Alexander, 
ringing the bell. 

A cab, immediately ! he said, as the waiter appeared, 

‘^And now, Everage,” he continued, when they were 
left alone together again, now tell me what could possi- 
bly have caused you to have my child carried of^ Do you 
know his loss has nearly broken his mother’s heart ? ” 

Do I not know it ? Have I not felt it ? felt it day and 
night since the devil deluded me into doing this deed ? 
Lord Killcrichtoun, look at me ! See the wreck remorse 
has made of me ! Ho sooner had I done this deed than 
remorse, like a consuming fire, than which the fires of Hell 
can not be fiercer, entered my heart and burned my life 
away to this.” 

“Burned your guilt away, Everage, but .not your life.” 

“ This agony of remorse I would not have borne for a 
week, but for my wife’s critical condition.” 

“ But she must have been very much distressed by the 
change in you.” 

“ She was ; but she ascribed it all to overwork in the 
school. And I soothed her by saying that after her con- 
finement I should leave the school. I did not tell her, for 
the Old Bailey 

“Hush, Everage, there will be nothing of that sort. 
But you have not yet told me what it was that tempted 
you to load thus your conscience.” 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 


473 


I will tell you all — I will keep nothing back ; and then 
you can do as j^ou please.” 

But, before he could say another word, the waiter op^oned 
the door, and announced the cab that had been ordered. 

Alexander and Everage left the house, Everage tottering 
with weakness and scarcely able to walk without the sup- 
port of Alexander’s arm, which was readily given him. 

Everage gave the order. 

“ Black street, Blackfriar’s Koad.” 

And then, with the help of Alexander, entered the cab. 

When they were both seated and the vehicle was in 
motion, Everage commenced the story of little Lenny’s 
abduction, and the causes that led to the act. 

With a shame-bowed head, in a broken and almost inau- 
dible voice, he spoke of the bitterness of his poverty and 
his servitude ; of the love, which was agony, for his beauti- 
ful, pale-faced wife, and lovely, fading little girls ; of the 
jealousy w'ith which he saw the Killcrichtoun estate, that 
might have been his own, and the salvation of his famish- 
ing family, pass away to a foreigner, so wealthy that he 
cared nothing for the half-sterile Highland acres ; of his 
belief that the present baron’s life was so precarious that 
in a very short time no one but little Lenny would stand 
between himself and the inheritance of Killcrichtoun ; and 
of the intensity of the temptation that finally maddened 
and conquered him, and drew him on to crime ; and finally, 
again he spoke of the fierce remorse that like the fires of 
Tophet devoured his life. 

And now,” he concluded, ^^do with me what you will I 
I have nothing to say in my defence, nothing whatever ! 
You can prosecute me for the abduction. You can send me 
to penal servitude for Heaven knows how many years ! It 
will be just ! I only entreat you, in any case, not to let 
my innocent family starve ! ” 

“ My poor Everage ! I could not look in your faco and 


474 


THE B RI r e’s fate. 


see the wreck remorse has made of you, and raise my hand 
or voice against you ! ^ Penal servitude ! ^ Your whole 

life has been penal servitude ! Besides, besides, in my 
more favored position, without any of the temptations that 
beset you, I myself have been too great a sinner to dare to 
he a harsh judge ! In your position, Everage, heaven 
knows, I might have been tempted to do the same 
things ! ” said Alexander, gravely. 

But I never meant to harm the child. I would have 
taken the best care of him I could.’^ 

I believe you, Everage. And let me find the child 
alive and well, and let me have the happiness of laying him 
upon his mother’s lap ; and then let the whole matter pass 
into forgetfulness. It shall not in any way interfere with 
my plans for your welfare.” 

God bless you, sir ! ” wept the poor gentleman ; God, 
in his great mercy, bless you ! ” 

Black street, sir,” said the cabman, pulling up his 
horses and waiting further orders. 

Turn into it and drive on until you reach Bushe Lane. 
It is on the left hand,” answered Everage. 

The cabman turned his horse’s head and drove down the 
street for some distance and then pulled up again. 

Bush e’s Lane, sir.” 

Turn into it and go on until you reach Blood Alley, 
It is also on the left side,” said Everage. 

The cabman turned into the dark, unwholesome lane and 
drove on for a short distance and then reined up his horses 
again. 

Blood Alley, sir,” he said. 

We must get out here, the alley is too narrow to admit 
the passage of the carriage,” said Everage, opening the 
door. 

And both men stepped down at the entrance of the foul 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 475 

alley, dark, loathsome and offensive to every material sense 
and moral sentiment. 

Wait here until we return,” said Everage to the cab- 
man. 

The man touched his hat in assent as he thought to him- 
self : 

“ Them two coves he two detectives on the scent of 
thieves.” 

Everage led the way and Alexander followed him, pick- 
ing his steps as well as he could through the fermenting 
filth of the alley, and shuddering to think his child exposed 
to such deadly air. 

About midway down the alley Everage paused before a 
tall, tottering tenement house, occupied by the lowest caste 
of thieves and beggars. 

Here is the place,” he said, opening the door and en- 
tering the passage-way, without either obstruction or even 
observation ; for at this hour the tenants were out upon 
their tramps. 

Everage led the way up several flights of quaking stairs 
to the attic floor, which certainly^ from its height, had the 
advantage of a purer air. 

Everage opened a door immediately in front of the land- 
ing and signed Alexander to enter. 

Alick passed the threshold and found himself in a room 
with a sloping roof and a skylight. 

The room was cleaner than when he saw it last, for Meg 
had been supplied with soap, and had kept it so for little 
Lenny’s sake ; but it was almost as bare of furniture as 
before. 

There were but two persons present — a wild looking, 
dark-haired, bare-footed girl walking the floor; and a child 
in her arms — a pale, wan baby-boy, with his fair-haired 
head dropped heavily upon her shoulder, his violet eyes 
closed, and his long fringed eyelids lying down upon his 


4T6 


THE BRIDE S RATE. 


dead white cheeks. His little clothes were old and faded 
and patched, but as clean as hands could make them. 

As the two men entered the room the girl looked up, 
pointed to the sleeping child and signed them to be quiet. 

It was too late. Poor little Lenny had become a nervous 
and irritable sleeper. The slightest noise would awaken 
• him. And now the sound of approaching footsteps startled 
him from his sleep, and he awoke with a shiver. His first 
words were : 

Doosa tome. Met ? ” 

Then looking up and seeing only two men, he dropped 
his head upon Meg’s shoulder and wailed forth his disap- 
pointment ; 

Doosa not tome ! Doosa not tone ! Lenny want see 
Doosa ! Lenny want to see Doosa so bad ! ” 

And you shall see Doosa, my darling boy ! You shall 
see Doosa before the sun goes down. You shall sleep on 
your mother’s bosom to-night, little Lenny!”, exclaimed 
Alexander, in great agitation, as he w'ent to the child and 
held out his arms. 

But Lenny turned away and clasped his own arms 
around Meg’s neck and renewed his plaintive cry ; 

“ I want to see Doosa ! I want ta see Doosa so had 1 I 
don’t want anybody esse ! ” 

And so you shall see Doosa, my beloved hoy ! Look 
at me, little Lenny ! don’t you know me ? ” coaxed 
Alexander. 

“ Ess, I do ! But I want'see Doosa ! ” 

“ Look at me, my darling ! Come to me I I will take 
you to Doosa directly 1 ” pleaded Alexander, holding out his 
arms and gazing earnestly in the face of his son. 

Now little Lenny had been deceived by fair hut false 
promises, and his faith was failing. But there \vas an 
earnest truthfulness in the looks and words of the man 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 4X7 

that now carried conviction to the heart of the child. His 
face lightened, beamed, became transfigured with ecstasy: 

You tate me see Doosa ? You tate me now ? ’’ he joy- 
ously exclaimed. 

“ Yes my darling, now this moment ! Come to me,” said 
Alexander, still holding out his arms. 

Lenny bounded into them. 

Oh, sir ! you will not take him from me ! It would break 
my heart! he is all I have to love in the world! all that 
loves me ! I would work my fingers to the bones, I would 
for him ! Please, sir, don’t take him away!” cried Meg, 
lifting the corner of her apron to her eyes. 

“ I must take him to his mother, my girl. She too is 
pining for him,” said Alexander, kindly. 

Oh, Lenny, you won’t leave me ! You won’t leave 
poor Met ? ” she wept, appealing to the child. 

“ No ! no ! no ! ” said Master Leonard, peremptorily. 

Not leave Met ! Met go too ! Met go too ! Met go too ! ” 

But, my darling. Met can’t go ! ” 

“ I will, I will, I will ! Lenny love Met ! Lenny not 
leave Met. Met go too ! ” 

“ But, Met cannot go,” remonstrated the father. 

Oh, yes, sir, I can,” sobbed Meg. If you will take 
him, I can go, if you will let me ; and I will be a faithful 
servant to him all my life, and never want any wages.” 

“ Met go too ! Met go too ! ” sang out little Lenny. It 
was the chorus of the song. 

But, my girl, how can you go ? I would willingly re- 
ward you for the care you must have bestowed upon my 
child, who, but for you, might have perished in this horri- 
rible place, but how can I take you away ? you have par- 
ents or guardians who must be consulted.” 

Meg left off crying, and laughed aloud : 

“ No, sir ; little ladies and gentlemen have them things, 
not the likes of us ! The people I live with ain’t no kin to 


478 


THE bride’s fate. 


me, though I do call the men uncle, and the ■woman gran 
nam ; I am only their drudge, sir j I am free to go with 
the child, if you will let me.” 

Met go too ! Met go too ! ” cried the little despot, be- 
ginning now to scream and kick with impatience. 

He had not been used to have his will crossed. He had 
been accustomed to prompt obedience from his white slaves. 

I see that you are * a chip of the old block,’ ” smiled 
Alexander. 

Met go too ! Met go too ! ’ screamed the young tyrant, 
making his feet fly with such velocity that they looKed like 
a drove of feet. 

Meanwhile, Meg, with her apron to her eyes, was sobbing 
violently. A scene was certainly impending. 

I think, sir, if I w'ere 3 mu I would take the girl along. 
I think well of her. I believe her account of herself to be 
true. And I believe it would be a good work to take her 
from this haunt of sin and misery — alas ! I beg your par- 
don, I had forgotten myself, I have no right to preach,” said 
the poor penitent, bowing his head. 

‘‘*1 will take her at your ■wmrd, Everage j hut, good 
Heaven, look down at her feet ! ” 

Well, they are not cloven ! ” said the poor gentleman, 
with a sad attempt at a pleasantry. Give her a sovereign 
sir, and let her run out and fit herself with a bonnet, and 
shawl, and a pair of shoes and stockings. I’ll -w^arrant 
she’ll do it all in tw^ent}'^ minutes.” 

“ I’ll do it in less time, sir ; indeed I w'ill, if you’ll only 
le: me go with little Lennj’’ ! ” 

Very well ; be quick,” said Alexander, handing over a 
sovereign. 

Oh, please, sir, give it to me in smaller change. If the 
shopkeeper was to see the likes of me with a whole suvring 
at a time, they would stop it, and send for the police,” said 
Meg. 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 


479 


That is quite likely/' thought Alick, as he replaced the 
olfered coin in his purse, and then gave her a half sovereign 
in gold, and a half in silver change. 

Meg was as quick as her word. She hurried out, and, in 
fifteen minutes hurried in, equipped for her ride. It was 
in less time than they supposed she could have effected her 
purchases. 

Then she took Lenny in her arms, and prepared to follow 
the two gentlemen. 

The whole party went down Blood alley towards its out- 
let upon Bushe lane. 

Little Lenny laughed and patted Meg’s cheeks, and prat- 
tled all the way. 

“ Going to see Doosa, Met ! Met going to see Doosa too ! 
Lenny love Met I Lenny not leave Met ! Met going to 
see Doosa ! 

When they reached Bushe lane, where the cab was wait- 
ing, the astute cabman, looking around upon the party, said 
to himself: 

“ There — I knew it ! They’ve caught one on ’em ; and 
ivhat a young sinner to he the mother of a child that big ! ” 

Everage put Meg and Lenny into the cab, and then fol- 
lowed with Alexander. 

Lenny was still full of joyous babble. 

Wide in cavvidge. Met ! Met wide in cawidge too ! ” he 
kept saying, as he patted her cheeks and kissed her. 

“ They should never be separated,” murmured the poor 
gentleman, timidly, as if speaking to himself. 

They shall not be, if I can help it,” replied Alexander, 
who had read with approval the letter of reccommendation 
contained in Meg’s face. 

They drove rapidly up Bushe Lane, through Blank 
street, and up Blackfriar’s road. But little conversation 
was carried on until they reached the Strand. 

When drawing near to Wellington street, where Everage 
lived, he said ; 


480 THE bride’s fate. 

But you will not take the child to his mother thii 
afternoon ? ” 

Certainly,” replied Alexander. 

What — now, immediately ? ” 

Yes.” 

Will not the shock be too great ? ” 

‘^No; I have heard that she is almost morbid on the 
subject, and is constantly looking for the child, and expect- 
ing to find him, or to have him brought home to her. I 
also had a sort of conviction that I should have the happi- 
ness of finding him and carrying him as a peace-offering to 
his mother. It was a very remarkable presentiment, I 
think.” 

^^Presentiments when believed in, often fulfil them- 
selves,” said Everage. 

“ However that may be, I so firmly believed that I 
should find the child, that I instructed her mother’s friends 
to encourage her hopes and keep up her expectations of 
seeing him, so that when I should briug him to her, she 
should not sustain a fatal shock of joy.” 

By this time they had reached Wellington street, and at 
the request of Everage the cab was drawn up. 

The poor gentleman got out. 

“ Give me your hand, Everage,” said Alexander ; and 
holding it, he added, I shall see you very soon, and 
remember, you are to have that Highland property.” 

Everage pressed the hand of his magnanimous friend 
with a look more eloquent than words, and then turned and 
walked rapidly up Wellington street. 

Drive on,” said Alexander. 

“ Where now, sir ? ” inquired the cabman, touching his 
hat. 

Morley House, Trafalgar square.” 

In a very few minutes the cab drove up to the hotel and 
•topped. 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 481 

One of the servants of the house, seeing Lord Killcrich- 
toun’s face at the window, came Dut to him. 

^‘Do you know if Mr. Hammond is in the house just 
now ? ” inquired Alexander. 

“ Yes, sir ; he is in the reading-room.” 

‘‘Take in my card and ask him if he will do me the 
favor to come out.” 

The waiter vanished, and Dick soon made his appearance 
at the cab door. 

“ Oh Dick ! I have found him ! ” exclaimed Alick^ 
pointing to the child. 

“ Little Lenny ! Thank God ! ” cried Dick, jerking 
open the door, jumping into the cab, and seizing little Len- 
ny and seating himself. 

“Oh Dit ! Dit! Lenny tome home see Doosa! Met 
tome too ! Lenny wide in tab ! Met wid too ! Lenny 
not leave Met ! Lenny love Met ! ” 

And so the child prattled on, patting Dick’s cheeks, and 
pulling his whiskers, and kissing him. 

“ Oh I am so glad ! Where did you find him, Alick ? 
How was it ? Tell me all about it ! ” 

“ Too long a story y. Dick. I must take him to his 
mother. Can I do so with safety ? ” 

“I think so. I have constantly encouraged her hopes 
of finding the child; and yet perhaps it would be well to 
be cautious. I will just step up and prepare her a little. 
I will tell her that we have better, hopes than ever of find- 
ing her child; and that we have heard from him, and know 
where he is ; and that he is now on his way to her, and so 
forth. But I will not tell her that you are bringing him. 
I will leave that delight to yourself” 

“ Thank you, Dick. Make haste, and don’t be gone a 
moment longer than necessary.” 

“ I will come back as soon as possible,” said Dick as ho 
disappeared. 

30 


482 THE bride’s fate. 

See Doosa ! see Doosa ! ” exclaimed little Lenny impa- 
tiently. 

Yes, my boy, you shall see Doosa. Dick has gone to 
look for Doosa and tell her,^’ said Alexander. 

“ Dit done look for Doosa ? ” 

\Yes, my darling.’^ 

So Lenny prattled on. 

Dick was gone rather longer than was expected, hut at 
length he returned. 

“ You can go to her now. I have led her to expect that 
a gentleman from Jersey has found the child, and is on his 
way home with him, and that he may arrive by any train 
now. The news has made her very happy, as you may 
judge. And now you may go up to her. She is alone in 
her chamber.” 

“ Thanks, Dick ! many thanks for your kindness. Come 
Meg,” said Alick, stepping out upon the sidewalk. 

Meg followed with little Lenny in her arms. 

“You must come and show me her room, Dick,” said 
Alick. 

“ Certainly,” replied Hammond. 

The whole party entered the house and passed up stairs. 

When they arrived at the door of Drusilla’s chamber, 
Alick took little Lenny in his arms and said : 

“ I must enter alone. Dick, be so good as to take this 
girl to your wife and tell her that she is to be an under 
nurse-maid or something of the sort. After I have seen 
Drusilla we will attend to the girl’s case.” 

“ Very well, Alick. Heaven speed you ! ” said Dick, 
beckoning to Meg, who followed him meekly, and moving 
towards Anna’s room. 

“ Where Met gone ? where Met gone ? ” impatiently 
demanded Lenny. 

“ Met has gone to see Anna,” answered Alexander. 

“ Met tome back soon ? ” 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 


483 


Yes, she will come back soon.’’ 

Met go see Doosa too ? ” 

Yes, Met go see Doosa too. Now, Lenny, be a good, 
fuiet boy. We are going to see Doosa.” 

Lenny be good boy den.” 

^^And mind, you must be very, very still. You must 
not jump and kick and scream ; if you do you will hurt 
Doosa,” said Alexander, looking very gravely into the 
child’s face. 

Lenny be good boy ! Lenny not hurt Doosa,” answer- 
the child with owlet-like solemnity. 

Still Alick paused at the door. How many minutes he 
paused before he could sufficiently compose himself for the 
joyous trial before him. But then he had not yet recover- 
ed from the effects of hhg wound. 

At length, with a prayer in his heart, he opened the 
door so softly as not to disturb the inmate of the room. 

She was sitting at the window, with her elbow resting 
on its sill, and her head bowed upon her hand. How worn 
and wan she looked ! Her face was scarcely less white 
than the snowy robe she wore. Her face was turned partly 
towards the window, and had an anxious, listening look, as 
if constantly watching for the coming of some beloved and 
long-expected one. 

As soon as little Lenny saw his mother, he forgot all his 
promises, and sang out with all the strength of his baby 
lungs : 

Doosa ! Doosa ! See Lenny tome home ! ” 

She turned her head quickly, screamed, and started up 
to meet him ; but, overwhelmed with emotion, sank back 
again into her chair and gasped for breath. 

“ Hush, hush, my boy ; see jmu have hurt Doosa ; be 
very good now ! ” whispered Alexander in a tone that 
awed the child into silence. 

Then he crossed the room, knelt at her feet, and said ; 


484 


THE bride’s fate. 


My wife, I have no word to say for myself. Let our 
child plead for me.’’ 

And he laid little Lenny on her lap. 

No, there was no scene that could be fully reported here. 

Husband and child, both restored to her in an instant ! 
It is a wonder she had not died then and there ! But she 
did not even faint. Heaven, that had sustained her 
through such long-drawn-out, unutterable sorrows, gave her 
strength now to meet the sudden shock of joy. 

She gently put little Lenny aside for a moment, where 
the child, still awed into silence, stood quietly. 

She stooped and fell upon her Alick’s neck and clasped 
him to her ; she wept over him in ecstasy ; she kissed him 
again and again, sobbing words of the fondest endearment 
^sacred words not to be written here. 

Lenny looked on in wonder and awe for some time ; but 
at last his impatience overcame every other emotion, and 
he sang out : 

“ Me, too ! Me, too ! Me, too ! ’Top it, Doosa ! Tate 
Lenny up ! ” 

Alick, with a face radiant with joy, once more snatched 
up the child, and kissed him rapturously, and put hiip in 
his mother’s arms, saying : 

Tell him who I am, darling wife ! Tell him who I 
am ! ” 

“Does he not know? ” inquired Drusilla, who was cover- 
ing her child with caresses. 

“ No. I never felt that I had any right to tell him.” 

“ Lenny, love, do you know who that gentleman is ? ” she 
asked, looking fondly at the child and then at the father. 

“Ess I do ! he bring Lenny home to Doosa,” answered 
the boy. 

“ Look at him, Lenny. He is j^our papa.” 

“ Lenny’s popper ? ” inquired the baby looking with 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 


485 


great eyes at the stranger, who had now taken on a new 
interest for him. 

Yes,” softly answered his mother. 

Lenny dot popper too 7 ” 

At this innocent question, in which so much was ex- 
pressed, Alexander, again conscience-stricken, turned away 
his head to hide the tears that rushed to his eyes. 

But for all reply, Drusilla stooped and kissed her child 
and handed him back to his father. 

The reconciliation was perfect. 

Later, they went into the drawing-room, to which Dick 
brought Anna and General Lyon ; all of whom, amid tears 
and caresses, offered their earnest congratulations to the re- 
united pair ; and rejoiced with an exceeding great joy over 
the restoration of little Lenny. 

But all this was as nothing to the frantic delight of 
Pina when she heard little Lenny had been found. She 
ran to him, she snatched him up, kissed him and hugged 
him, and laughed and cried over him to such a degree that 
even Master Leonard, who could bear a great deal of that 
sort of thing, was obliged to order her to 

« ’Top it.” 

And then she ceased, and bore him off to dress him in 
all his finery for dinner. 

‘‘Yes, the reconciliation was perfect. And as it very 
seldom happens that any human being suffers as Drusilla 
had suffered, so, also, it falls to the lot of very few to be so 
happy as she was that evening and ever thereafter. 

She never learned the true history of little Lenny’s ab- 
duction. She was left to believe in the policeman’s theory, 
that the child had been stolen by thieves for the sake of the 
jewelry on his person. She was told, however, of Meg’s 
cherishing care of her baby, and she saw for herself the 
strong attachment existing between them : and so she ap- 
pointed Meg under nurse-maid, and fitted her out with a 


486 


THE BRIDE S FATE. 


decent wardrobe. As to Meg’s “ parents and guardians/' 
the thieves of Blood Alley, they were left to their own 
conjectures on the subject of her absence, and they pro- 
bably came to just conclusions, and being in possession 
of their ill-got money, were also probably satisfied. 

What else ? 

Clarence Everage, the sincerely repentant sinner whom 
misery had tempted to crime for which nature had never 
intended him, and whom conscience had afterwards con- 
strained to confession and restitution — Clarence Everage, 
the poor, proud gentleman, the oppressed public school 
drudge — was put in possession of the Highland estate, 
and he became Everage of Killcrichtoun. 

Alexander advanced the funds to make the house hab- 
itable and the land arable. 

In the bracing air of the mountains his fading wife, and 
pale little daughters grew rosy and happy, well and 
strong. Everage also recovered his health and good looks, 
but never regained the raven hues of his hair. And when 
his wife or anj^ friend would suggest that it was perfectly 
proper so young a man — so prematurely grey — should d^^e 
his hair, he would shake his head with a melancholy smile 
and sa}’- : 

“ Ho, no ! I wear my gra3>^ locks in memory of a great 
temptation and a great fault, that might have been a fatal 
one but for the Lord’s goodness.” 

Ho one, not even his wife, knew what he meant. And 
no one ventured to ask him. They saw that the matter 
was a sacred confidence between himself and his Creator, 
with which none might intermeddle. 

In truth, nobody ever knew all the circumstances of little 
Lenny’s abductipn except those immediately concerned in 
it. Alexander had been generous in his recovered happi- 
ness, and had spared the name and fame of the poor gen- 
tleman. 


THE PEACE-OFFERING. 


487 


The Lyon family, of which little Lenny was the greatest 
lion of all, did not immediately return to their own coun- 
try. They made the tour of Europe, and worked hard at . 
it, and so they saw about one trillionth part of what was 
worth seeing. 

They w^ere accompanied by the Sej’^mours and by Erancia 
Tredegar. 

At the end of a year they went hack to America, and 
down into Virginia. 

Soon after their arrival several important family events 
occurred. 

Eirst, Drusilla presented little Lenny with a little sister, 
who was named Annette, and who became his especial de- 
light. 

Next, Anna became the mother of a tine hoy, to the 
direct controverting of the gipsy fortune-teller’s prediction, 
which had promised her only girls. 

And finally, Nanny Seymour and Erancis Tredegar were 
married ; and the young couple, after a prolonged bridal 
tour, took up their abode with Colonel and Mrs. Seymour. 

Pina made Jacob inexpressibly happy by accepting the 
dusky hand and honest heart of* that gorilla.” Her 
place being made vacant by her marriage was well filled 
by Meg, now grown to be a pretty civilized-looking young 
woman, and promoted to be bead of the nursery at Crow 
Wood. 

When I last beard of these friends of ours. General Lyon 
was still living, in the enjoyment of a bale and happy age, 
at Old Lyon Hall, surrounded by Anna and Dick and their 
children, who made their home with him. And Hammond 
Hall was kept in good order by a steward and a housekeeper. 
And in the fishing se,'ason, the family, with a party of friends, 
usually occupy it for a few weeks. And there, as well as 
at Old Lyon Hall, they are often joined by Alexander and 
Drusilla. 


488 


THE bride’s fate. 


Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Lyon live chiefly at Crow 
Wood, where they spend their days in doing good, and 
in rearing their beautiful young family. 

Their other country seat. Cedar Wood Cottage, is still 
in the care of Mammy’’ and her ‘^old man.” And every 
winter Alick and Drusilla, with their children, go there to 
he near Washington in the season. And Mr. and Mrs. 
Hammond and General Lyon come to them. The old Gen- 
eral never loses his interest in what is going on at the 
capital. 



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Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

Self-Made; or. Out of the Depths. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 
Complete in two volumes, cloth, price $1.50 each, or $3.00 a set. 

CAEOLINE LEE HENTZ’S EXQUISITE BOOKS. 

Complete in twelve large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back, 
pHce $1.50 each; or $18.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


Ernest Linwood, $1 50 

The Planter’s Northern Bride,.. 1 50 

Courtship and Marriage, 1 50 

Rena; or, the Snow Bird, 1 50 

Marcus Warland I 50 


Love after Marriage $1 

Eoline; or Magnolia Vale, 1 

The Lost Daughter, 1 

The Banished Son, 1 

Helen and Arthur, 1 


Linda ; or, the Young Pilot of the Belle Creole, 1 

Robert Graham; the Sequel to “ Linda; or Pilot of Belle Creole,”... 1 
Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. (1) 


2 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS’ FAVORITE NOVELS. 


Complete in twenty-three large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth, gilt back, 
price $1.50 each ; or $34.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Soldiers’ Orphans, $1 50 

A Noble Woman, 1 50 


Norston’s Rest, $1 50 

Bertha’s Engagement, 1 50 

Bellehood and Bondage, 1 50 

The Old Countess, 1 50 

Lord Hope’s Choice, 1 50 

The Reigning Belle, 1 50 

Palaces and Prisons, 1 50 

Married in Haste, 1 50 

Wives and Widows, 1 50 

Ruby Gray’s Strategy, 1 50 


Silent Struggles, 1 50 

The Rejected Wife, 1 50 

The Wife’s Secret, 1 50 

Mary Derwent, 1 50 

Fashion and Famine, 1 50 

The Curse of Gold, 1 50 

Mabel’s Mistake, 1 50 

The Old Homestead, 1 50 


Doubly False, 1 50 | The Heiress, 1 50 | The Gold Brick,... 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

MISS ELIZA A. DXJPUY’S WONDERFUL BOOKS. 

Complete in fourteen large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth, gill back, price 
$1.50 each; or $21.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

A New Way to Win a Fortune $1 50 j Why Did He Marry Her? $l 50 


The Discarded Wife, I 50 

The Clandestine Marriage, 1 60 

The Hidden Sin, 1 50 

The Dethroned Heiress, I 60 

The Gipsy’s Warning, 1 50 

All For Love, 1 50 


Who Shall be Victor? 1 50 

The Mysterious Guest, 1 50 

Was Ho Guilty ? 1 50 

The Cancelled Will, 1 50 

The Planter’s Daughter, 1 50 

Michael Rudolph, 1 50 


Above arc each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


LIST OF THE BEST COOK BOOKS PUBLISHED. 

Every housekeeper should possess at least one of the following Cook Books, as they 
would save the price of it in a week's cooking. 

Miss Leslie’s Cook Book, a Complete Manual to Domestic Cookery 


in all its Branches. Paper cover, $1.00, or bound in cloth, $1 50 

The Queen of the Kitchen; or. The Southern Cook Book. Con- 
taining 1007 Old Southern Family Receipts for Cooking,. ..Cloth, 1 50 

Mrs. Hale’s New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 50 

Petersons’ New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 50 

Widdifield’s New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 50 

Mrs. Goodfellow’s Cookery as it Should Be, Cloth, 1 60 

The National Cook Book. By a Practical Housewife, Cloth, 1 50 

The Young Wife’s Cook Book, Cloth, 1 50 

Miss Leslie’s New Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, .1 50 

Mrs. Hale’s Receipts for the Million, Cloth, 1 50 


The Family Save- All. By author of “National Cook Book,” Cloth, 1 50 
Francatelli’s Modern Cook Book. With the most approved methods 
of French, English, German, and Italian Cookery. With Sixty- 
two Illustrations. One vol., 600 pages, bound in morocco cloth, 5 00 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 3 


MBS. C. A. WARFIELD’S POPULAR WORKS. 

Complete in nine large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth, gilt hack, price 
$1.50 each ; or $13.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Cardinal’s Daughter, $1 50, Miriam’s Memoirs, $1 50 

Feme Fleming, 1 50jMonfort Hall, 1 50 

The Household of Bouverie,.... 1 50 Sea and Shore, 1 50 

A Double Wedding, 1 50 Hester Howard’s Temptation,... 1 50 

Lady Ernestine; or, The Absent Lord of Rocheforte, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

FREDRIKA BREMER’S DOMESTIC NOVELS. 

Complete in six large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 each ; 
or $9.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Father and Daughter, $1 50 | The Neighbors, $1 50 

The Four Sisters, 1 50 1 The Home, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

Life in the Old World. In two volumes, cloth, price, 3 00 


a. K. PHILANDER DOESTICKS’ FUNNY BOOKS. 

Omtplete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 
each ; or $6.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Doesticks’ Letters, $1 50 | The Elephant Club, $l 50 

Plu-Ri-Bus-Tah, 1 50 1 Witches of New York, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


JAMES A. MAITLAND’S HOUSEHOLD STORIES. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 
each ; or $10.60 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


T^e Watchman, $1 50 

The Wanderer, 1 50 

The Lawyer’s Story, 1 50 


Di.ary of an Old Doctor, $1 50 

Sartaroe, 1 50 

The Three Cousins, 1 50 


The Old Patroon ; or the Great Van Broek Property, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE’S ITALIAN NOVELS. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 
each; or $10.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Sealed Packet, $1 50 l Dream Numbers,.,. $1 50 

Garstang Grange, 1 50 I Beppo, the Conscript, 1 50 

Leonora Casaloni,... 1 50 | Gemma, 1 50 | Marietta, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


FRANK FORESTER’S SPORTINO SCENES. 

Frank Forester’s Sporting Scenes and Charncters. By Henry William 
Herbert. A New, Revised, and Enlarged Edition, with a Life of the 
Author, a New Introductory Chapter, Frank Forester’s Portrait and 
Autograph, with a full length picture of him in his shooting costume, 
and seventeen other illustrations, from original designs by Darley and 
Frank Forester. Two vols., morocco cloth, bevelled boards, $4.00. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Poterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


4 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WILKIE COLLINS’ BEST BOOKS. 

Basil; or, The Crossed Path. $1 50 | The Dead Secret. 12ino $1 50 

Above are each in one large duodecimo volume, bound in cloth. 

The Dead Secret, 8vo 75 The Queen’s Revenge, 75 

Basil; or, the Crossed Path, 75 Miss or Mrs? .’>0 

Hide and Seek, 75 Mad Monkton, 50 

After Dark, 75 Sights a-Foot, 50 

The Stolen Mask, 25 | The Yellow Mask,... 25 | Sister Rose,... 25 

The above books are each issued in paper cover, in octavo form. 

EMERSON BENNETT’S INDIAN STORIES. 

Complete in seven largf duodecimo volumes, hound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 
each ; oi- $10.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

.$1 50 


The Border Rover, $1 50 

Clara Moreland, 1 50 

The Orphan’s Trials, I 50 


Bride of the Wilderness,. 

Ellen Norbury, 

Kate Clarendon, 


50 

50 


Viola; or Adventures in the Far South-AVest, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

The Heiress of Bellefonte, 75 | The Pioneer’s Daughter, 75 

GREEN’S WORKS ON GAMBLING. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, hound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 
each ; or $6.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Gambling Exposed, $1 50 i The Reformed Gambler, $1 50 

The Gambler’s Life, 1 50 \ Secret Band of Brothers, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

DOW’S PATENT SERMONS. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.25 
each ; or $5.00 a set, each set is pul up in a neat box. 


Dow’s Patent Sermons, 1st 

Series, cloth, $1 25 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 2d 
Series, cloth 1 25 


Dow’s Patent Sermons, 3d 

Series, cloth, $1 25 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 4th 
Series, cloth, 1 25 


Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.00 each. 

GEORGE SAND’S GREATEST NOVELS. 

Consuelo, 12mo., cloth, $1 50 I Jealousy, 12mo., cloth, $1 50 

Countess of Rudolstadt, 1 50 1 Indiana, 12mo., cloth, 1 50 

Above are each published in 12mo., cloth, gilt side and back. 
Fanchon, the Cricket, paper cover, 50 cents, or fine edition, in cloth, 1 50 
First and True Love. With 11 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, 1 00 

Consuelo. Paper cover, 75 | The Corsair 50 

Simon. A Love Story, 50 I The Last Aldini, 50 

The Countess of Rudolstadt. The Sequel to Consuelo. Paper cover, 75 

Miss BRADDON’S FASCINATING BOOKS. 

Aurora Floyd, 75 | The Lawyer’s Secret, 25 

Aurora Floyd, cloth 1 00 | For Better, For AVorse, 75 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


X. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 5 


CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS, ILLUSTRATED. 

2'hts edition is printed J rom lar^e type, octavo size, each hook being complete 
in one large octavo volume, hound in Morocco Cloth, with Gilt Character 
Figures on back, and Medallion on side, price $1.50 each, or $27.00 a set, 
contained in eighteen volumes, the whole containing near Six Hundred 
Illustrations, by Cruikshank, Phiz, Browne, Maclise, and other artists. 
The Pickwick Papers. By Charles Dickens. With 32 Illustrations, .$1.50 
Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles Dickens. With 37 Illustrations,.... I 50 

David Copperfield. By Charles Dickens. With 8 Illustrations, I 50 

Oliver Twist. By Charles Dickens. With 24 Illustrations, 1 50 

Bleak House. By Charles Dickcn.s. With 38 Illustrations, 1 50 

Dombey and Son. By Charles Dickens. With 38 Illustrations, 1 50 

Sketches by Boz.” By Charles Dickens. With 20 Illustrations,...’ I 50 

Little Dorrit. By Charles Dickens. With 38 Illustrations, 1 50 

Our Mutual Friend. By Charles Dickens. With 42 Illustrations 1 50 

Great Expectations. By Charles Dickens. With 34 Illustrations,... 1 50 
Lamplighter’s Story. By Charles Dickens. With 7 Illustrations,... I 50 

Barnaby Rudge. By Charles Dickens. With 50 Illustrations, 1 50 

jMartin Chuzzlewit. By Charles Dickens. With 8 Illu.«trations,. .... 1 50 
Old Curiosity Shop. By Charles Dickens. With 101 Illustrations,. 1 50 

Christmas Stories- By Charles Dickens. With 12 Illustrations, 1 50 

Dickens’ New Stories. By Charles Dickens. With portrait of author, 1 50 
A Tale of Two Cities. By Charles Dickens. With 64 Illustrations,. I 50 
Charles Dickens’ American Notes and Pie-Nic Papers, 1 50 

BOOKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following books are each issued in one large duodecimo volume, 


bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

The Initials.. A Love Story. By Baroness Tautphoeus, $I 50 

Married Beneath Him. By author of Lost Sir Massitigberd,”. 1 50 

Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of “Zaidee,” 1 50 

Family Pride. By author of “ Pique,” “ Family Secrets,” etc 1 50 

The Autobiography of Edward Wortloy Montagu, 1 50 

The Forsaken Daughter. A Companion to “ Linda,” i 50 

Love and Liberty. A Revolutionary Story. By Alexander Dumas, 1 50 

The Morrisons. By Mrs. Margaret Ho.smer, 1 50 

The Rich Husband. By author of George Geith,” 1 50 

The Lost Beauty. By a Noted Lady of the Spanish Court, 1 50 

Mj' Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. A Charming Love Story, 1 50 


The Quaker Soldier. A Revolutionary Romance. By Judge Jone.s,.... 1 50 
Memoirs of Vidocq, the French Detective. His Life and Adventure.^, I 50 
The Belle of Washington. With her Portrait. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 50 
High Life in Washington. A Life Picture. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 50 
Courtship and Matrimony. By Robert Morris. With a Portrait,... 1 50 

The Jealous Husband. By Annette Marie Maillard, 1 50 

The Conscript; or, the Days of Napoleon 1st. By Alex. Dumas,..,. 1 50 
Cousin Harry. By Mrs. Grey, author of “ The Gambler’s Wife,” etc. 1 50 
Above books are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


6 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBIICATIONS. 


WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The /ollotoing hooks are each issued in one large duodecimo volume, 
hcnind in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

The Connt of Monte-Cristo. By Durua.‘«. Illustrated, paper $1.00,..$1 50 


The Countess of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, price $1.00 ; or cloth,.. 1 50 

Camille; or, the Fate of a Coquette. By AIe.xander Duraos, 1 50 

Love and Money. By J. B. Jones, author of the “ Rival Belles,”... 1 50 
The Brother’s Secret ; or, the Count Be Mara. By William Godwin, 1 50 
The Lost Love. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of “ Margaret Maitland,” 1 50 

The Bohemians of London. By Edward M. Whitty, 1 50 

Wild Sports and Adventures in Africa. By Major W. C. Harris, 1 50 

The Life, Writings, and Lectures of the late “ Fanny Fern,” 1 50 

The Life and Lectures of Lola Montez, with her portrait, 1 50 

Wild Southern Scenes. By author of “Wild Western Scenes,” 1 50 

Currer Lyle; or, the Autobiography of an Actre.^s. By Louise Reeder. 1 50 

The Cabin and Parlor. By J. Thornton Randolph. Illustrated, 1 50 

The Little Beauty. A Love Story. By Mrs. Grey, 1 50 > 

Lizzie Glenn ; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. By T. S. Arthur, 1 50 

Lady Maud ; or, the Wonder of Kingswood Chase. By Pierce Egan, 1 50 

Wilfred Montressor ; or. High Life in New York. Illustrated, 1 50 

Lorrimer Littlegood, by .author “ H.arry Coverdale’s Courtship,” 1 50 

Married at Last. A Love Story. By Annie Thomas, 1 50 

Shoulder Straps. By Henry Morford, author of “ Days of Shoddy,” 1 60 
Days of Shoddy. By Henry Morford, author of “ Shoulder Straps,” 1 50 

The Coward. By Henry Morford, author of “ Shoulder Straps,” 1 50 

Above books are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

The Roman Traitor. By Henry William Herbert. A Roman Story, 1 75 

The Last Athenian. By Victor Rydberg. From the Swedish, 1 75 


MRS. HENRY WOOD’S BEST BOOKS, IN CLOTH. 

The following are cloth editions of Mrs. Henry Wood*s best books, and they 
are each issued in large octavo volumes, botmd in cloth, price $1.75 each. 
Within the Maze. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ East Lynne,” $1 75 

The Master of Greylands. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 

Dene Hollow. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Within the Maze,” 1 75 
Bessy Rane. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “The Channings,”.... 1 75 
George Canterbury’s Will. By Mrs. Wood, author “Oswald Cray,” 1 75 
The Channings. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Dene Hollow,”... 1 75 

Roland Yorke. A Sequel to “ The Channings.” By Mrs. Wood, 1 75 

Shadow of Ashlydyatt. By Mrs. Wood, author of “ Bessy Rane,”.... 1 75 
Lord Oakburn's Daughters; or The Earl’s Heirs. By Mrs. Wood,... 1 75 
Verners Pride. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ The Channings,” 1 75 
The Castle’s Heir; or Lady Adelaide’s Oath. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 
Oswald Cray. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Roland Yorke,”.... 1 75 

Squire Trevlyn’s Heir; or Trevlyn Hold. By Mrs. Henry AVood, I 75 

The Red Court Farm. By Mrs. Wood, author of “ Verner’s Pride,” 1 75 
Bister’s Folly. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Castle’s Heir,”... 1 75 
St. Martin’s Eve. By Mr.s. Henry AVood, author of “Dene Hollow,”! 75 
Mildred Arkell. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “East Lynne,” 1 75 


1^* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson A Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 7 


ALEXANDER DUMAS’ ROMANCES. IN CLOTH. 

'file following are cloth editions of Alexander Dumas* loorks, and they arc 
each issued in large octavo volumes, bound in cloth, price $1.50 eacA. 
The Three Guardsmen ; or, The Three Alousquetaires. By A. Dumas, $1 50 
Twenty Years After,* or the ** Second Series of Three Guardsmen," ... 1 50 
Bragelonne; Son of Athos ; or “ Third Series of Three Guardsmen," 1 50 
The Iron Mask ; or the “ Fourth Series of The Three Guardsmen," 1 50 
Louise La Valliere. The Sequel to ^^The Iron Mask" Being the 


“ Fifth Book and End of the Three Guardsmen Series," 1 50 

The Memoirs of a Physician; or, Joseph Balsamo. Illustrated, 1 50 


Queen's Necklace; or** Second Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 50 
Six Years Later; or the “ Third Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 50 
Countess of Charny ; or ** Fourth Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 50 
Andree De Taverney ; or “ Fifth Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 50 
The Chevalier. The Sequel to ** Andree De Taverney." Being the 

**Sixth Book and End of the Memoirs of a Physician Series," 1 50 

The Adventures of a Marquis. By Alexander Dumas, 1 50 

The Forty-Five Guardsmen. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 50 
Diana of Meridor, or Lady of Monsoreau. By Alexander Dumas,... 1 50 
The Iron Hand. By Alex. Dumas, author “Count of Monte-Cristo," 1 50 

Camille; or the Fate of a Coquette. (L:^Dame aux Camelias,) 1 50 

The Conscript. A novel of the Days of Napoleon the First, 1 50 

Love and Liberty. A novel of the French Revolution of 1792-1793, 1 50 

THE “ COUNT OF MONTE-CEISTO SERIES,” IN CLOTH. 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 50 

Edmond Dantes. The Sequel to the ** Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 25 

The Countess of Monte-Cristo. The Companion to “Monte-Cristo,” 1 50 
The Wife of Monte-Cristo. Continuation of “Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 25 
The Son of Monte-Cristo. The Sequel to “ Wife of Monte-Cristo,” 1 25 

T. S. ARTHUR’S GREAT TEMPERANCE BOOKS. 

Six Nights with the Washingtonians, Illustrated. T. S. Arthur’s 
Great Temperance Stories. Large Subscription Edition, cloth, gilt, 

$3.50; Red Roan, $4.50; Full Turkey Antique, Full Gilt, 6 00 

The Latimer Family ; or the Bottle and Pledge. By T. S. Arthur, cloth, 1 00 

MODEL SPEAKERS AND READERS. 

Comstock's Elocution and Model Speaker. Intended for the use of 
Schools, Colleges, and for private Study, for the Promotion of 
Health, Cure of Stammering, and Defective Articulation. By 
Andrew Comstock and Philip Lawrence, With 236 Illustrations.. 2 00 
The Lawrence Speaker. A Selection of Literary Gems in Poetry and 
Prose, designed for the use of Colleges, Schools, Seminaries, Literary 
Societies. By Philip Lawrence, Professor of Elocution. 600 pages.. 2 00 
Comstock’s Colored Chart. Being a perfect Alphabet of the English 
Language, Graphic and Typic, with exercises in Pitch, Force and 
Gesture, and Sixty-Eight colored figures, representing the various 
postures and different attitudes to be used in declamation. On a large 
Roller. Every School should have a copy of it 5 00 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


8 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS, 


WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The followilig hooks are each issued in one large octavo volume, bound in 
cloth, at $1.50 e(tch, or each one is done tq) in paper cover, at $1.00 each. 

The Wandering Jew. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustration.", $1 50 

Mysteries of Paris; and its Sequel, Gerolstein. By Eugene Sue,.... 1 50 

Martin, the Foundling. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, 1 50 

Ten Thousand a Year. By Samuel Warren. With Illustrations,.... 1 50 
The folloioing books are each issued in one large octavo volume, hound in 
cloth, at $2.00 each, or each one is done tip in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

Washington and His General.". By George Lippard, 2 00 

The Quaker City; or, the Monks of Monk Hall. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Blanehe of Brandywine. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Paul Ardenheitn ; the Monk of Wissahiekon. By George Lippard,. 2 00 
The Mysteries of Florence. By Geo. Lippard, author “Quaker City,” 2 00 
Tiie Pictorial Tower of London. By W. Harrison Ainsworth, 2 50 

The following are each issued in one large octavo volume, bound in cloth, price $1.50 
each, or a cheap edition is issu^ in paper cover, at lb cents each. 

Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever, Cloth. $1 50 

Harry Lorrequer. With his Confessions. By Charles Lever,. ..Cloth, 1 50 

Jack Hinton, the Guardsman. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

Davenport Dunn. A Man of (?ur Day. By Charles Lever,. ..Cloth, 1 50 

Tom Burke of Ours. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

The Knight of G Wynne. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

Arthur O’Leary. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

Con Cregan. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

Horace Templeton. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

Kate O’Donoghue. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist. By Harry Coekton, Cloth, 1 50 

HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATED BOOKS. 

Each one is full of Illustrations, by Felix 0. G. barley, and bound in Cloth. 
Major Jones’ Courtship and Travels. In one vol., 29 Illu.strations,.$I 75 

Major Jones’ Scenes in Georgia. With 10 Illustrations, 1 50 

Swamp Doctor’s Adventures in the South-West. 14 Illustrations,... 1 50 

Col. Thorpe’s Scenes in Arkansavv. With 16 Illustrations, 1 50 

High Life in New York, by Jonathan Slick. With Illustrations,.... 1 50 

Piney Wood’s Tavern; or, Sam Slick in Texas. Illustrated, 1 50 

Humors of Falconbridge. By J. F. Kelley. W’ith Illustrations, ... 1 50 

Simon Suggs’ Adventures and Travels. With 17 Illustrations, 1 50 

The Big Bear’s Adventures and Travels. With 18 Illustrations, 1 50 

Judge Haliburton’s Yankee Stories. Illustrated, 1 50 

H.arry Coverdale’s Courtship and Marriage. Illustrated, 1 50 

Lorrimer Littlegood. Illustrated. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” 1 50 
Neal’s Charcoal Sketches. By Joseph C. Neal. 21 Illustrations,... 2 50 

Major Jones's Courtship. 21 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, 1 00 

' Major Jones’s Travels. 8 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, 1 00 

Major Jones’s Georgia Scenes. 12 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, 1 00 
Raney Cotteui’s Courtship. 8 Illustrations. Paper, 50 cents, cloth, 1 00 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 9 


STANDARD NOVELS, BY BEST WRITERS. 

Consuelo. By George Sand. One volume, 12ino., bound in cloth, ...$1 50 
The Countess of Rudolstadt. Sequel to “Consuelo.” 12roo., cloth,.. 1 50 
Indiana. A Novel. By George Sand, author of “ Consuelo,” cloth, 1 50 
Jealousy ; or, Teverino. By George Sand, author “ Consuelo,” cloth, 1 50 
Fanchon, the Cricket; or. La Petite Fadette. By George Sand, cloth, 1 50 

The Dead Secret. By Wilkie Collins, author of “ Basil,” cloth, 1 50 

The Crossed Path ; or Basil. By Wilkie Collins, cloth, 1 50 

John Jasper’s Secret. Sequel to ^‘Mystery of Edwin D rood ” cXoih,... 1 50 
The Life of Charles Dickens. By Dr. B. Shelton Mackenzie, cloth, 1 50 
The Lamplighter’s Story, with others. By Charles Dickens, cloth,... 1 50 
The Old Stone Mansion. By author of “ Heiress of Sweetwater,” cloth, 1 50 
Lord Montagu’s Page. By G. P. R. James, author' Cavalier,’ cloth, 1 50 
The Earl of Mayfield. By Thomas P. May, cloth, black and gold,.. 1 50 

Myrtle Lawn. A Novel. By Robert E. Ballard, cloth, 1 50 

Corinne; or, Italy. A Love Story. By Madame de Stael, cloth,.... 1 00 
Cyrilla; or Mysterious Engagement. By author of “ Initials,” cloth, 1 00 

Treason at Home. A Novel. By Mrs. Greenough, cloth, 1 50 

Letters from Europe. By Colonel John W. Forney. Bound in cloth, 1 50 

Frank Fairlegh. By author of “ Lewis Arundel,” cloth, ] 50 

Lewis Arundel. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” cloth, I 50 

Harry Racket Scapegrace. By the author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” cloth, 1 50 

Tom Racquet. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” cloth, 1 50 

Sam Slick, the Clockmaker. By Judge Haliburton. Illustrated,... 1 50 

Modern Chivalry. By Judge Breckenridge. Two vols., each 1 50 

LaGaviota; the Sea-Gull. By Fernan Caballero, cloth, 1 50 

Aurora Floyd. By Miss M. E. Braddon. Bound in cloth 1 00 

The Laws and Practice of the Game of Euchre and Draw Poker, 

as adopted by the Euchre Club of Washington, D. C. Cloth, 1 00 

Youth of Shakspeare, author “Shakspeare and His Friends,” cloth, 1 25 
Shakspeare and His Friends, author “Youth of Shakspeare,” cloth, 1 25 
The Secret Passion, author of “ Shakspeare and His Friends,” cloth, 1 25 
Father Tom and the Pope; or, A Night at the Vatican, illus., cloth, 1 00 

Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott. One 8vo. volume, cloth, 2 50 

Life of Sir Walter Scott. By John G. Lockhart. With Portrait, 2 50 

Tales of a Grandfather & History of Scotland, by Walter Scott, cloth, 2 50 
Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, by Sir Walter Scott. One 8vo. vol., cloth, 2 50 
Miss Pardoe’s Choice Novels. In one large octavo volume, cloth,... 4 00 
Life, Speeches and Martyrdom of Abraham Lincoln. Illus., cloth,.. 1 50 
Rome and the Papacy. A History of the Men, Manners and Tempo- 
ral Government of Rome in the Nineteenth Century, cloth, 1 50 

The French, German, Spanish, Latin and Italian Languages Without 
a Master. Whereby any one of these Languages can be learned 

without a Teacher. By A. H. MOnteith. One volume, cloth 2 00 

Liebig’s Complete AVorks on Chemistry. By Justus Liebig, cloth,... 2 00 

Life and Adventures of Dun Quixote and Sancho Panza, cloth, 1 50 

Tan-go-ru-a. An Historical Drama, in Prose. By Mr. Moorhead,.... 1 00 

The Impeachment Trial of President Andrew Johnson. Cloth, 1 50 

Trial of the Assassins for the Murder of Abraham Lincoln. Cloth,... 1 50 


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10 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


NEW AND GOOD BOOKS BY BEST AUTHORS. 

Beautiful Snow, and Other Poems. New Illustrated Edition. By J. W. 
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cloth, black and gold, gilt top, side, and back, price $2.00; or in 
maroon morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, $3 00 
The Outcast, and Other Poems. By J. W. Watson. One volume, 
green morocco cloth, gilt top, side and back, price $2.00 ; or in ma- 
roon morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, ... 3 00 
The Young Magdalen; and Other Poems. Bound in green mo- 
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Hans Breitmann's Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Containinff the 
** First/’ **Second/’ “ Third/’ Fourth,” and ** Fifth Series” of Hans 


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morocco cloth, gilt side, gilt top, and full gilt back, with beveled 

boards. With a full and complete Glossary to the whole work, 4 00 

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gilt top, gilt back, with beveled boards, price $2.50, or in maroon 

morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, etc., 3 50 

The Ladies’ Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners. By 
Miss Leslie, Every lady should have it. Cloth, full gilt back,... 1 50 
The Ladies’ Complete Guide to Needlework and Embroidery. With 

113 illustrations. By Miss Lambert. Cloth, full gilt back, 1 50 

The Ladies’ Work Table Book. 27 illustrations. Paper 50 cts., cloth, 1 00 
Bow’s Short Patent Sermons. By Dow, Jr. In 4 vols., cloth, each.... 1 25 

Wild Oats Sown Abroad. By T. B. Witmer, cloth, 1 50 

The Miser’s Daughter. By William Harrison Ainsworth, cloth, 1 50 


Across the Atlantic. Letters from France, Switzerland, Germany, 

Italy, and England. By C. H. Haeseler, M.D. Bound in cloth,... 1 50 
Popery Exposed. An Exposition of Popery as it was and is, cloth, 1 50 
The Adopted Heir. By Miss Pardoe, author of “The Earl’s Secret,” 1 50 
Coal, Coal Oil, and all other Minerals in the Earth. By Eli Bowen, 1 50 

Secession, Coercion, and Civil War. By J. B. Jones, 1 50 

Lives of Jack Sheppard and Guy Fawkes. Illustrated. One vol., cloth, 1 50 
Christy and White’s Complete Ethiopian Melodies, bound in cloth,... 1 00 
Historical Sketches of Plymouth, Luzerne Co., Penna. By Hendrick 

B. Wright, of Wilkesbarre. With Twenty-five Photographs, 4 00 

Dr. Ilollick’s great work on the Anatomy and Physiology of the 
Human Figure, with colored dissected plates of the Human Figure, 2 00 
Riddell's Model Architect. With 22 large full page colored illus- 
trations, and 44 plates of ground plans, with plans, specifications, 
costs of building, etc. One large quarto volume, bound, 15 00 


HARRY COCKTON’S LAUGHABLE NOVELS. 


Valentine Vox, Ventriloquist,.. 75 


Valentine Vox, cloth, 1 50 

Sylvester Sound, 75 

The Love Match, 75 


The Fatal Marriages, 

The Steward, 

Percy Effingham, 

The Prince, 


75 

75 

75 

75 


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by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETEESOK & BEOTHEBS' PUBLICATIONS. 11 


BOOKS IN SETS BY THE BEST AUTHOES. 

Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth’s Famous Works. 43 vols. in all, $64 50 


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Miss Eliza A. Dupuy’s Wonderful Books. Fourteen volumes in all, 21 00 
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Mrs. C. A. Warfield’s Popular Works. Nine volumes in all, 13 50 

Frederika Bremer's Domestic Novels. Six volumes in all, 9 00 

T. Adolphus Trollope’s Italian Novels. Seven volumes in all, 10 50 

.Tames A. Maitland's Household Stories. Seven volumes in all, 10 50 

Charles Lever’s Works. Ten volumes in all, 15 00 

Alexander Dumas’ Great Romances. Twenty-one volumes in all,.. 31 50 

Frank Fairlegh’s Works. Six volumes in all, 9 00 

Cook Books. The best in the world. Eleven volumes in all, 16 50 

Mrs. Henry Wood’s Novels. Seventeen volumes in all, 29 75 

Q. K. Philander Doestick's Funny Books. Four vols. in all, 6 00 

Emerson Bennett’s Indian Stories. Seven volumes in all, 10 50 

American Humorous Books. Illustrated. Twelve volumes in all, 18 00 

Eugene Sue’s Best Works. Three volumes in all, 4 50 

George Sand’s Great Novels. Consuelo, etc. Five volumes in all,. 7 50 

George Lippard’s Weird Romances. Five volumes in all, 10 00 

Dow’s Short Patent Sermons. Four volumes in all, 5 00 


The Waverley Novels. Neto National Edition. Five 8vo. vols., cloth, 15 00 
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ALEXANDEE DUMAS’ EOMANCES, IN PAPEE. 

Count of Monte-Cristo, $1 00 j Memoirs of a Physician; or, 

Edmond Dantes, 75 | Joseph Balsamo, $1 00 

The Throe Guardsmen, 75 > Queen’s Necklace, 1 00 

Twenty Years After, 75 ■ Six Years Later, 1 00 

Bragelonne, 75 j Countess of Charny, 1 00 

The Iron Mask, 1 00 I Andree de Taverney, 1 00 

Louise La Vallicre, 1 00 j The Chevalier, 1 00 

Diana of Meridor 1 00 ; Forty-five Guardsmen, 1 00 

Adventures of a Marquis, 1 00 j The Iron Hand, 1 00 

Love and Liberty, (]792-’93).. 1 00 j The Conscript, 1 00 

Camille; or. The Fate of a Coquette, (La Dame Aux Caraelias,) 1 00 

Countess of Monte-Cristo. The companion to Count of Monte-Cristo 1 00 
The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.50 each. 

The Wife of Monte-Cristo.. 

'flie Son of Monte-Cristo... 

The Mohicans of Paris, 

The Horrors of Paris, 

The Fallen Angol, 

Felina de Chamburo, 

Sketches in France, 

Isabel of Bavaria, 

The Man with Five Wives,, 


75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 


Annette; or. Lady of Pearls,... 75 

Twin Lieutenants, 50 

George ; or. Isle of France, 50 

Madame de Chamblay, 50 

The Black Tulip, 50 

The Corsican Brothers, 50 

The Count of Moret, 50 

The Marriage Verdict, 50 

Buried Alive, 25 


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12 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


Orders solicited from Booksellers, Librarians, Canvassers, News 
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EMILE ZOLA’S HEW REALISTIC BOOKS. 

Nana! Sequel to L’Assoimnoir. By Emile Zoln. Nana! Price 75 cents 
in paper cover, or $1 .00 in morocco cloth, black and gold. Nana ! 

L'Assomraoir ; or, Nana’s Mother. By Emile Zoht. The Greatest Novel 
ever printed. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth. 

The Joys of Life. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana,” “ Pot-Bouille,” etc. 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

The Ladies’ Paradise; or. The Bonheur des Dames. By Emile Zola, author 
of “ Nana.” Paper cover, 75 cents; or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

Her Two Husbands; and Other Novelettes. By Emile Zola. Price 75 
cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

Pot-Bouille. A'/aiVe author of Nana.” “Pot-Bouille.” Price 
75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

Nana’s Daughter. A Continuation of and Sequel to Emile Zola’s Great 
Realistic Novel of “Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 

The Mysteries of the Court of Louis Napoleon. By Emile Zola. Price 
75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

The Girl in Scarlet; or, the Loves of Silvgre and Miette. By Emile Zola. 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

Albine; or. The Abb6’s Temptation. (Aa Faute De 1j Ahhe Mouret.) By 
Emile Zola. Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

La Belle Lisa; or, The Paris Market Girls. By Emile Zola. Price 7a 
cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

H61ene, a Love Episode; or, (Jne Page JJ’ Amour. By Emile Zola. 
Price 76 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

A Mad Love; or The Abb6 and His Court. By Emile Zola. Price 75 
cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

Magdalen Ferat. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” and “ L’Assom- 
moir.” Paper cover, 75 cents, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

Claude’s Confession. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana,” “ L’Assommoir,” 
“ Helene,” etc. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

The Mysteries of Marseilles. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana.” Price 
50 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth, black and gold. 

In the Whirlpool. {La Curee.) By Emile Zola, author of “Nana.” 
Paper cover, 75 cents; or $1,25 in cloth, black and gold. 

Th6rese Raquin. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana.” Price 75 cents in 
paper cover, or $1.00 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

* ADOLPHE BELOT’S INGENIOUS NOVELS. 

The Black Venus. By Adolphe Bel ot. Paper cover, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 

La Grande Florine. By Adolphe Belot. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

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T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PHBLICATIONS. 13 


PETERSONS’ SaUARE 13mo. SERIES. 

The follorcing books are printed on tinted paper, and are issued in uniform 
style, in square \2mo. form. Price 50 Cents in Paper, or $1.00 in Cloth. 
Helen’s Babies. Budge and Toddic. By John Habberton. With an 
Illustrated Cover, and Portraits of “ Budge ” and “ Toddie,” and others. 
Mrs. Mayburn’s Twins. With the Mother’s Trials in the Morning, After- 
noon and Evening. By John Habberton, author of ‘‘ Helen’s Babies.” 
Bertha’s Baby. Equal to ‘‘Helen’s Babies.” Bertha’s Baby. With an 
Illustrated Cover, and a Portrait of “Bertha’s Baby” on it. 

The Annals of a Baby. Baby’s First Gifts, Naming the Baby. Tho 
Baby’s Party. Aunt Hannah, etc. By Mrs. Sarah Bridges Stebbins. 
Bessie’s Six Lovers. With Her Reflections, Resolves, Coronation, and 
Declaration of Love. A Charming Love Story. By Henry Peterson. 
Two Kisses. A Bright and Snappy Love Story. By Hawley Smart. 

Her Second Love. A Thrilling Life-like and Captivating Love Story. 

A Parisian Romance. Octave FeuiUet’s New Book, just dramatized. 
Fanchon, the Cricket; or. La Petite Fadette. By George Sand. 

Two Ways to Matrimony ; or. Is it Love? or. False Pride. 

The Matchmaker. By Beatrice Reynolds. A Charming Love Story. 

Tho Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 
The Amours of Philippe; or, Philippe’s Love Affairs, by Octave Feuillet. 
Sybil Brotherton. A Novel. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 
Raney Cottem’s Courtship. By author of “Major Jones’s Courtship.” 
Father Tom and the Pope; or, A Night at the Vatican. Illustrated. 

A Woman’s Mistake; or, .Jacques de Trevannes. A Charming Love Story. 
The Days of Madame Pompadour. A Romance of the Reign of Louis XV. 
The Little Countess. By Octave Feuillet, author of “Count De Camors.” 
The Red Hill Tragedy. B}' Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

The American L’Assommoir. A parody on Zola’s “ L’Assoramoir.” 

Hyde Park Sketches. A very humorous and entertaining work. 

Miss Margery’s Roses. A Charming Love Story. By Robert C. Meyers. 
Madeleine. A Charming Love Story. Jules Sandeau’s Prize Novel. 
Carmen. By Prosper Merimee. Book the Opera was dramatized from. 
That Girl of Mine. By the author of “ That Lover of Mine.” 

That Lover of Mine. By the author of “ That Girl of Mine.” 

PETERSONS’ SailARE 12mo. SERIES. 

The Wife of Monte-Cristo. Continuation of “ Count of Monte-Cristo.” 
The Son of Monte-Cristo. The Sequel to “ The Wife of Monte-Cristo.” 
Married Above Her. A Society Romance. By a Lady of New York. 

Tho Man from Texas. A Powerful Western Romance, full of adventure. 
Erring, Yet Noble. N Book of Women and for Women. By I. G. Reed. 
The Fair Enchantress; or. How She Won Men’s Hearts. By Miss Keller. 
Above are in paper cover, price 75 cents eao4, or $1.25 each in cloth. 

Harry Coverdale’s Courtship and Marriage. Paper, 75 cts. ; cloth, $1.50. 
Those Pretty St. George Girls. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, gilt, $1.00. 
The Prairie Flower, and Leni-Leoti. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Camille; or. The Fate of a Coquette. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, gilt, $1.25. 
Vidocq! The French Detective. Illustrated. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

All Books published by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, 
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14 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBIICATIONS. 


PETERSONS’ SaUARE ISmo. SERIES. 

Major Jones’s Courtship. 21 Illustrations. P-aper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Major Jones’s Georgia Scenes. 12 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Major Jones’s Travels. 8 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Simon Suggs’ Adventures. 10 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.00. 
Louisiana Swamp Doctor. 6 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Initials. ‘A. Z.' By Baroness Tautphoeus. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25. 
Indiana ! A Love Story. By George Sand. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Monsieur, Madame, and the Baby. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
L’Evangeliste. By Alphonse Daudet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
The Duchesse Undine. By II. Penn Diltz. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
The Hidden Record. By E. W. Blaisdell. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Consuelo. By George Sand. Paper cover. Price 75 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
Countess of lludolstadt. Sequel to Consuelo. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Changed Brides. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. Paper, 75 cts. 
The Bride’s Fate. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. Paper, 75 cents. 
Self-Raised; or. From the Depths. By Mrs. Southworth. Paper, 75 cts. 
Ishmael; or, in the Depths. By Mrs. Southworth. Paper, 75 cents. 
The Fatal Marriage. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. Paper, 75 cents. 
The Bridal Eve; or. Rose Elmer. By Mrs. Southworth. Paper, 75 cents. 
A Russian Princess. By Emmanuel Gonzales. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
A Woman’s Perils; or, Driven from ILune. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
A Fascinating Woman. By Edmond Adam. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
La Faustin. By Edmond de Goncourt. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Monsieur Le Ministre. By Jules Claretie. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Winning the Battle; or, One Girl in 10,000. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
A Child of Israel. By Edouard Cadol. Paper, 75 cents, eloth, $1.00. 
'The Exiles. The Russian ‘ Robinson Crusoe.’ Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
My Hero. A Love Story. By Mrs. Forrester. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.00. 
Paul Hart; or. The Love of His Life. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Mildred’s Cadet; or. Hearts and Bell-Buttons. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Bellah. A Love Story. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Sabine’s Falsehood. A Love Story. Paper, price 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Linda; or, The Young Pilotof the Bello Creole. Paper, 75cts., cloth, $1.26. 
'The Woman in Black. Illustrated Cover. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Madame Bovary. By Gustavo Flaubert. - Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
'The Count de Camors. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
How She Won Him ! A Love Story. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Angdle’s Fortune. By Andr5 Theuriet. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
St. Maur ; or. An Earl’s Wooing. Paper cover, price 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
The Prince of Breffny. By Thomas I*. May. Paper, 75 cents, eloth, $1.50. 
The Earl of Mayfield. By Thomas P. May. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

THE “COUNT OF MONTE-CEISTO SERIES.” 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. Illustrated. Paper cover, $1.00, cloth, $1.50. 
Edmond Dantes. Sequel to “ Monte-Cristo.” Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25. 
'The Countess of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, $1.00, morocco cloth, $1.50. 
The Wife of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, 75 cents, morocco cloth, $1.25. 
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T. B. PETEESON &BROTHEES’ PTTBLICATIOES. 16 


MES. F. H. BUENETT’S EOVELLETXES. 

Kathleen. A Love Story. By author of “ That Lass o’ Lowries." 

Theo. A Love Story. By author of ‘‘ Kathleen," “ Miss Crespigny,” etc. 
Lindsay’s Luck. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 
Pretty Polly Pemberton. By author of “ Kathleen," “ Theo," etc. 

A Quiet Life. By Mrs. Burnett, author of “ That Lass o' Lowries.'* 

Miss Crespigny. A Charming Love Story. By author of “Kathleen." 
Jarl’s Daughter and Other Novelettes. By Mrs. Burnett. 

Above are in paper cover, price 60 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each, 

HEEEY OE^VILLE’S CHAEUINO XOVELS. 

Dosia. A Russian Story. By Henry Griville, author of “ Markof." 
Marrying Off a Daughter. A Love Story. By Henry Oriville. 

Sylvie’s Betrothed. A Charming Novel. By Henry Griville. 

Philomfine's Marriages. A Love Story. By Henry GrivilU. 

Guy's Marriage; also Pretty Little Countess Zina. By Henry Griville, 
Above are in paper cover, price 75 cents each, or iu eLoth, at $1.26 each. 
The Trials of Raissa. By Henry Griville, author of “ Dosia." 

'The Princess Ogh^rof. A Love Story. By Henry Griville. 

Above are in paper cover, price 76 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each, 
Mam’zelle Eugenie. A Russian Love Story. By Henry Griville, 

Saveli's Expiation. A Powerful Novel. By Henry Griville. 

Tania’s Peril. A Russian Love Story. By Henry Grigville. 

Sonia. A Love Story. By Henry Griville, author of “Dosia." 

Lucie Rodey. A Charming Society Novel. By Henry Gr4villa. 
Bonne-Marie. A Tale of Normandy and Paris. By Henry Griville. 
Xenia's Inheritance. A Tale of Russian Life. By Henry Griville. 
Dournof. A Russian Story. By Henry Griville, author of “ Dosia." 
Gabrielle; or, The House of Maurfize. By Henry Griville. 

A Friend; or, “L’Ami." By Henry Griville, author of “Dosia." 

Above are in paper cover, price 60 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each, 
Markof, the Russian Violinist. Paper cover, 76 cents; cloth, $1.60. 

BOOKS BY AUTHOR OF ‘A HEART TWICE W0H.» 

A Heart Twice Won; or. Second Love. A Love Story, By Mrs. Eliza- 
beth Van Loon. Morocco cloth, black and gold. Price $1.60. 

Under the Willows; or. The Three Countesses. By Mrs. Elizabeth Van 
Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won." Cloth, and gold. Price $1.50. 
The Shadow of Hampton Mend. A Charming Story. By Mrs. Elizabeth 
Van Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won." Cloth. Price $1.50. 

The Mystery of Allanwold. A Thrilling Novel. By Mrs. Elizabeth Van 
Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won." Cloth, and gold. Price $1.50. 
The Last Athenian. By Victor Rydberg, Translated from the Swedish. 

Large 12mo. volume, near 600 pages, cloth, black and gold, price $1.76. 
The Roman Traitor ; or, The Days of Cicero, Cato, and Cataline. A Tale 
of the Republic. By Henry William Herbert. Morocco cloth, price $1.75. 
Francatelli’s Modern Cook Book. The New Edition. With the most 
approved methods of French, English, German, and Italian Cookery. 
With 62 Illustrations. 600 pages, morocco cloth, price $5.00. 


All Books published byT. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa., 
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16 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS^ PUBLICATIONS. 


PETERSONS’ “DOLLAR SERIES.” 

Petersons' '^Dollar Series ” of Good Novels are the cheapest booJcs at One Dollar each 
ever published. They are all issued in uniform style, in \2mo. form, and are 
bound in red, blue and tan vellum, with gold and black sides and back, and are sold 
at the low price of One Dollar each, while they are as large as any books published 
at $1.75 and $2.00 each. The following have already been issued in this series: 

A Woman’s Thoughts About Women. By Miss Mulock. 

Two Ways to Matrimony; or, Is It Love, or, False Pride? 

The Story of “ Elizabeth.” By Miss Thackeray. 

Flirtations in Fashionable Life. By Catharine Sinclair. 

Lady Edith ; or, Alton Towers. A very charming and fascinating work. 
Myrtle Lawn ; or, True Love Never Did Run Smooth. A Love Story. 

The Matchmaker. A Society Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds. 

Rose Douglas, the Bonnie Scotch Lass. A Companion to “ Family Pride.” 
The Earl’s Secret. A Chsvrming Love Story. By Miss Pardoe. 

Family Secrets. A Companion to “ Family Pride,” and very fascinating. 
The Macdermots of Ballycloran. An Exciting Novel, by A. Trollope. 

The Family Save-All. With Economical Receipts for the Household. 
Self-Sacrifice. A Charming Work. By author of “Margaret Maitland.” 
The Pride of Life. A Love Story. By Lady Jane Scott. 

The Rival Belles; or. Life in Washington. Author “ Wild Western Scenes.” 
The Clyffards of Clyffe. By James Payn, author “ Lost Sir Massingberd.” 
The Orphan’s Trials; or, Alone in a Great City. By Emerson Bennett. 
The Heiress of Sweetwater. A Love Story, abounding with exciting scenes. 
The Refugee. A delightful book, full of food for laughter, and information. 
Lost Sir Massingberd. A Love Story. By author of “ Clyffards of Clyffe.” 
Cora Belmont; or. The Sincere Lover. A True Story of the Heart. 

The Lover’s Trials ; or. The Days Before the Revolution. By Mrs. Denison. 
My Son’s Wife. A strong, bright, interesting and charming Novel. 

Aunt Patty’s Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, author of “ Rena.” 
Saratoga! and the Famous Springs. An Indian Tale of Frontier Life. 
Country Quarters. A Charming Love Story. By Countess of Blessington. 
Self-Love. A Book for Young Ladies, with prospects in Life contrasted. 
The Devoted Bride; or. Faith and Fidelity. A Love Story. 

Colley Cibber’s Life of Edwin Forrest, with Reminiscences of the Actor. 
Outof the Depths. The Story of a Woman’s Life, and a Woman’s Book. 
The Queen’s Favorite ; or, The Price of a Crown. A Romance of Don Juan. 
Six Nights with the AVasbingtonians. By T. S. Arthur. Illustrated. 

The Coquette; or, the Life and Letters of the beautiful Eliza Wharton. 
Harem Life in Egypt and Constantinople. By Emmeline Lott. 

The Old Patroon; or. The Great Van Broek Property, by J. A. Maitland. 
Nana. By Emile Zola. Gambling E.xposed. ByJ.H. Green. 

L’Assommoir. By Emile Zola. AVoodburn Grange. By AV. Ilowitt. 

Dream Numbers. By Trollope. The Cavalier. By G. P. R. James. 

A Lonely Life. Across the Atlantic. 

The Beautiful AVidow. Shoulder-Straps. By H. Morford. 

Love and Duty. By Mrs. Hubback. The Brothers’ Secret. 

The Heiress in the Family. The Rector’s Wife. 

Woman’s Wrong. A AVoman’s Book. The Man of the AA^orld. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETEBSON & BBOTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 17 


PETERSONS’ “STERLING SERIES.” 

Petersons* Sterling Series ” of New and Good Books are the Cheapest Novels 
in the world. They are all issued in uniform style, in octavo form, price 
One Dollar each, bound in morocco cloth, black and gold ; or 75 cents each 
in paper cover, with the edges cut open all around. The following 
celebrated works have already been issued in this series : 

Corinne ; or, Italy. By Madamo De Stael. This is a Wonderful Book. 
The Man in Black; or the Days of Queen Anne. By G. P. R. James. 
Edina ; or, Missing Since Midnight. A Love Story. By Mrs. Henry Wood. 
Cyrilla. A Love Story. By the author of “ The Initials.” 

Popping the Question; or, Belle of the Ball. By author of “The Jilt.” 
Marrying for Money. A Charming Love Story in Real Life. 

Aurora Floyd. An Absorbing Love Story. By Miss M. E. BradJon. 
Salathiel; or. The Wandering Jew. By Rev. George Croly. 

■Harry Lorrequer. Full of Fun, Frolic and Adventure. By Charles Lever. 
Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon. Charles Lever’s Greatest Novel. 
The Flirt. A Fashionable Novel. By author of “The Gambler’s Wife.” 
The Dead Secret. Wilkie Collins’ Greatest Work. 

Thackeray’s Irish Sketch Book, with 'Thirty-eight Illustrations. 

The Wife’s Trials. Dramatic and Powerful. By Miss Julia Pardoo. 

The Man With Five Wives. By Alexander Dumas, author of “ Camille.” 
Pickwick Abroad. Illustrated by Cruikshank. By G. W. M. Reynolds. 
First and True Love. Beautifully rich in style. By George Sand. 

'The Mystery; or. Anno Hereford. A Love Story. By Mrs. Henry Wood. 
The Steward. Illustrated. By the author of “Valentine Vox.” 

Basil: or. The Crossed Path. By Wilkie Collins. Told with great power. 
The Jealous Wife, Great originality of plot. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 
Sylvester Sound. By the author of “Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist.” 
Whitefriars; or. The Days of Charles the Second. Equal to “Ivanhoe.” 
Webster and Hayne’s Speeches on Foot’s Resolution & Slavery Compromise. 
The Rival Beauties. A Beautiful Love Story. By Miss Pardoe. 

The Confessions of a Pretty Woman. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 

Flirtations in America; or. High Life in New York. 

The Coquette. A Powerful and Amusing Tale of Love and Pride. 

'The Latimer Family. T. S. Arthur’s Great Temperance Story, illustrated. 

Above books are $1.00 each in cloth, or 75 cents each in paper cover. 
The Creole Beauty. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. Price Fifty cents. 

Agnes Graham. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. Price Fifty cents. 

HENRY MORFORD’S AMERICAN NOVELS. 

Shoulder-Straps, $1 50 I 'The Days of Shoddy. A His- 

Tbe Coward, 1 50 I tory of the late War, $1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

THE SHAKSPEAEE NOVELS. 

Shakspeare and his Friends, ...$1 00 I The Secret Passion, $1 00 

The Youth of Shakspeare, 1 00 1 

Above three Books are also bound in morocco cloth. Price $1.25 each. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


18 f . B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS. 

.99' QBE AT EBDaCTION IN THEIH FBICES.-«» 


ILLUSTBATEI) OCTAVO EDITION. 

Reduced in price from $2.50 to $1.50 a volume. 

Tkie edition t« printed from large type, double column, octavo page, each 
book being complete in one volume, the whole containing near Six Hundred 
Illuitrations, by Cruikshunk, Phiz, Browne, Macliee, and other artiete. 



$1.50 

David Coppertield, 


$1.50 


1,50 

Barnaby Rudge, 


1.50 


1.50 

Martin Chuzzlewit,,... 


1.50 


1.50 

Old Curiosity Shop,.... 


1.50 

..Cloth, 

1.50 

Sketches by “ Boz,”... 


1.50 


1.50 

Christmas Stories, 


1.50 


1.50 

Dickens’ New Stories,, 

...Cloth, 

1.50 


1.50 

A Tale of Two Citie.v,. 

..Cloth, 

1.50 

.Cloth, 

1.50 

Amer. Notes, Pic-Nic Papers, 

1.50 


Price of a set, in Black cloth, in eighteen volumes, $27.00 

“ “ Full sheep, Library style, 40.00 

** “ Half calf, sprinkled edges, 48.00 

“ Half calf, marbled edges, 54.00 

“ ** Half calf, antique, or Half calf, full gilt backs,... 60.00 


ILLUSTRATED DUODECIMO EDITION. 

Reduced in price from $2.00 to $1.25 a volume. 

Tkia edition i» printed on the finest paper, from large, clear type, leaded, 
that all can read, containing Six Hundred full page Illustrations, on 
tinted paper, from designs by Cruikshank, Phiz, Browne, Maclise, 
McLeuan, and other artists. This is the only edition published that con- 
tains all the original illustrations, as selected by Mr. Charles Dickens. 
Complete in 36 volumes, bound in back, morocco cloth, price $45.00 a set. 


“ NEW NATIONAL EDITION” OF DICKENS’ WORKS. 

This is the cheapest bound edition of the entire works of Charles Dickens 
•ver published, all his writings being contained in seven large octavo vol- 
umes, with a portrait of Charles Dickens, and other illustrations. 


Price of a set, in Black cloth, in seven volumes, $20.00 

“ “ Full sheep. Library style, 23.00 


" ** Half calf, antique, or Half calf, full gilt backs,,.. 25.00 

GREEN MOROCCO CLOTH. DUODECIMO EDITION. 

This is the People's Duodecimo Edition" in a new style of Binding, in 
Green Morocco Cloth, Bevelled Boards, Full Gilt descriptive back, and 
Medallion Portrait on sides in gilt, in Twenty-tioo handy volumes, 12»io., 
fine paper, large clear type, and Two Hundred Illustrations on tinted paper. 
Price $44 a set, and each set put up in a neat and strong box. This is 
the handsomest and best edition ever published for the price. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail FrioOi 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 19 


CHARLES DICKENS^ WORKS. 

«-OHEAT REDUCTION IN THEIR PRICES. -©ft 


PETEESONS’ NEW AMERICAN EDITION OF DICKENS’ WORKS. 


This new edition of Charles Dickens’ Writings is in twent 3 '-two volumes, 
and for beauty and cheapness far burpasses any ever before issued. It is 
Called “ Petersons’ New American Edition,” and is printed on 6ne paper, 
from large, clear type, leaded, with original illustrations as selected by 
Mr. Dickens and designed by Phiz, Cruikshank, Browne, Maclise and other 
artists, and bound very gorgeously in red vellum, black and gold, with the 
cover filled with the author’s principal characters, which he has made so 
world-famous. There in one corner is the immortal Pickwick, in another 
the well-known Micawber, the learned Capt. Cuttle, poor little Oliver Twist, 
the misguided Grandfather, the mean, hypocritical Pecksniff, the merce- 
nary Squeers, Boots, The Beadle, etc., and all of this for the small sum of 
$1.50 a volume, or a complete set in 22 volumes, each set put up in a neat 
box, for $33.00, making a very handsome and unique edition. 

CHEAP PAPER COVER EDITION OF DICKENS’ WORKS. 


Each hook being complete 

Pickwick Papers, 50 

Nicholas Nickleby, 50 

Doinbey and Son, 50 

Our Mutual Friend, 50 

David Coppcrfield, 50 

Martin Chuzzlewit, 50 

Old Curiosity Shop, 50 

Oliver Twist, 50 

American Notes, 25 

Hard Times, 25 

A Tale of Two Cities, 25 

Somebody’s Luggage, 25 

Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings, 25 

Mrs. Lirriper’s Legacy, 25 

Mugby Junction, 25 

Dr. Marigold’s Prescriptions,... 25 

Mystery of Edwin Drood, 25 

Message from the Sea, 25 

Hunted Down; and Other Reprinted 


in one large octavo volume. 

Bleak House, 

Little Dorrit, 

Christmas Stories, 

Barnaby Rudge, 

Sketches by B(»z,” 

Great Expectations, 

Joseph Grimaldi,.....^. 

The Pic-Nic P.apers,! 

The Haunted House, 

Uncommercial Traveller, 

A House to Let, 

Perils of English Prisoners, 

Wreck of the Golden Mary, 

Tom Tiddler’s Ground, 

Dickens’ New Stories 

Lazy Tour of Idle Apprentices,. 

The Holly-Tree Inn, 

No Thoroughfare, 

Pieces, 


50 

50 

50 

50 

'50 

50 

50 

50 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

50 


THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF CHARLES DICKENS. 

LIFE AND WRITINGS OF CHARLES DICKENS. By Dr. R. Shelton 
Mackenzie, containing a full history of his Life, his Uncollected Pieces, 
in Prose and Verso ; Personal Recollections and Anecdotes; His Last 
Will in full; and Letters from Mr. Dickens never before published. 
With a Portrait and Autograph of Charles Dickens. Complete in one 
large duodecimo volume, in black cloth, or in red vellum. Price $1.50. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prite, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


20 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


CHARLES LEVER’S GREAT WORKS. 

Arthur O’Leary, 75 

Con Cregan, 75 

Davenport Dunn, 75 

Horace Templeton, 75 

Kate O’Donoghue, 75 


Charles O’Malley, 75 

Harry Lorrequer, 75 

Jack Hinton, 75 

Tom Burke of Ours, 75 

Knight of Gwynne, 75 

Above are in paper cover, or a fine edition is in cloth at $1.50 each. 

A Rent in a Cloud, 50 | St. Patrick’s Eve, 

Ten Thousand a Year, in one volume, paper cover, $1.00 j or in cloth, 1 
The Diary of a Medical Student, by author “ Ten Thousand a Year,” 

MRS. HENRY WOOD’S MASTERLY BOOKS. 


50 

50 

75 


The Master of Qreylands, $1 60 

Within the Maze, 1 50 

Dene Hollow, 1 50 

Bessy Rane, 1 60 

George Canterbury’s Will, 1 50 

Verner’s Pride, 1 60 

The Channings, 1 50 


The Shadow of Ashlydyat, $1 50 

Squire Trevlyn’s Heir, 1 50 

Oswald Cray, 1 50 

Mildred Arkell, 1 50 

The Red Court Farm, 1 50 

Elster’s Folly, 1 50 

Saint Martin’s Eve,. 1 50 


Roland Yorke. A Sequel to " The Channings,” 1 50_ 

Lord Oakburn’s Daughters ; or. The Earl’s Heirs, 1 50 

The Castle’s Heir ; or. Lady Adelaide’s Oath, 1 50 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 

Edina; or. Missing Since Midnight. Cloth, $1.00, or in paper cover,. 75 
“■ '* ‘ ' ~ Cloth, $1,00, or in paper cover, 75 


The Mystery. A Love Story. 
Parkwater. Told in Twilight, 75 

The Lost Bank Note, 60 

The Lost Will, 60 

Orville College, 50 

Five Thousand a Year, 26 

The Diamond Bracelet, 25 

Clara Lake’s Dream, 25 

The Nobleman’s Wife, 25 

Frances Hildyard, 25 

Cyrilla Maude’s First Love,... 25 

My Cousin Caroline’s Wedding 26 


A Life’s Secret, 50 

The Haunted Tower 50 

The Runaway Match, 25 

Marty n Ware’s Temptation, 25 

Foggy Night at Offord, 25 

William Allair, 25 

A Light and a Dark Christmas, 25 

The Smuggler’s Ghost 25 

Rupert Hall, 25 

My Husband’s First Love, 25 

Marrying Beneath Your Station 25 


EUGENE SUE’S LIFE-LIKE WORKS. 

The Wandering Jew, $1 

The Mysteries of Paris, 1 

Martin, the Foundling, 1 00 

Above are in cloth at $1.50 each. 


First Love, 

Woman’s Love, 

Female Bluebeard,. 
Man-of-War’s-Man,. 


Life and Adventures of Raoul de Surville. A Tale of the Empire,. 

WILLIAM H. MAXWELL’S WORKS. 

Wild Sports of the West, 75 i Brian O’Lynn, 

Stories of Waterloo, 75 1 Life of Grace O’Malley, 


50 

50 

50 

50 

25 


76 

50 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. SI 


HUMOROUS AMERICAN WORKS. 

With Rlumiuated Covers, and beautifully Illustrated by Felix 0. C. Barley, 

Major Jones’s Courtship. With Illustrations by Darley, 75 

Major Jones’s Travels. Full of Illustrations 75 

Major Jones’s Georgia Scenes, with Illustrations by Darley, 75 

Raney Cottem’s Courtship, by author of Major Jones’s Courtship,.... 50 

The Adventures of Captain Simon Suggs. Illustrated, 75 

Major Jones’s Chronicles of Pineville. Illustrated, 75 

Polly Peablossom’s Wedding. With Illustrations, 75 

Widow Rugby’s Husband. Full of Illustrations, 75 

The Big Bear of Arkansas. Illustrated by Darley, 75 

Western Scenes; or. Life on thc^Prairie. Illustrated, 75 

Streaks of Squatter Life and Far West Scenes. Illustrated,.... 75 

Pickings from the New Orleans Picayune. Illustrated, 75 

Stray Subjects Arrested and Bound Over. Illustrated, 75 

The Louisiana Swamp Doctor. Full of Illustrations, 75 

Charcoal Sketches. By Joseph C. Neal. Illustrated, 75 

Peter Faber’s Misfortunes. By Joseph C. Neal. Illustrated, 75 

Peter Ploddy and other Oddities. By Joseph C. Neal, 75 

Yankee Among the Mermaids. By William E. Burton 75 

The Drama in Pokerville. By J. M. Field. Illustrated, 75 

New Orleans Sketch Book. With Illustrations by Darley, 75 

The Deer Stalkers. By Frank Forester. Illustrated, 75 

The Quorndon Hounds. By Frank Forester. Illustrated, 75 

My Shooting Box. By Frank Forester. Illustrated, 75 

The Warwick Woodlands. By Frank Forester. Illustrated, 75 

Adventures of Captain Farrago. By H. H. Brackenridge, 75 

Adventures of Major O’Regan. By H. H. Brackenridge, 75 

Sol Smith’s Theatrical Apprenticeship. Illustrated, 75 

Sol Smith’s Theatrical Journey-Work. Illustrated, 75 

Quarter Race in Kentucky. With Illustrations by Darley, 75 

The Mysteries of the Backwoods. By T. B. Thorpe, 75 

Percival Mayberry’s Adventures. By J. H. Ingraham, 75 

Satn Slick’s Yankee Yarns and Yankee Letters, 75 

Adventures of Fudge Fumble; or. Love Scrapes of his Life, 75 

Aunt Patty’s Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, 75 

Following the Drum. By Mrs. Gen. Viele, SO 

The American Joe Miller. With 100 Engravings, 50 

SAMUEL WARREN’S BEST BOOKS. 

Ten Thousand a Year, paper,$l 50 I The Diary of a Medical Stu- 
Ten Thousand a Year, cloth,.. 2 00 ' dent, 75 

G. P. R. JAMES’S FASCINATING BOOKS. 


The Cavalier. By the .author of “ Lord Montague’s Page,” cloth,.... 1 50 

The Man in Black, 75 I Arr.ah Neil,. 75 

Mary of Burgundy, 75 I Eva St. Clair, 50 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


22 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PTOIICATIONS. 


MISS PARDOE’S FASCINATING WORKS. 

Confessions of a Pretty Woman, 75 The Rival Beauties, 75 

The Wife’s Trials, 75 Romance of the Harem, 75 

The Jealous Wife, 75 

Each of the above five books arc also bound in cloth, at $1.00 each. 


The Adopted Heir. One volume, paper, $1.00 ; or in cloth, .$1 50 

The Earl’s Secret. One volume, paper, $1.00; or in cloth, 1 50 


O’MALLEY AND HARRY LORREQUER. 

Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever. Four (different 
editions: one at 75 cents in paper cover, and three bound in cloth, viz. : 
Sterling Series, $1.00, People’s Edition, '$1 .50, & Library Edition, $1.50. 

Harry Lorrequer. With His Confessions. By Charles Lever. Four 
different editions : one at 75 cents in paper cover, and three bound in 
cloth, viz. : Sterling Series, at $1.00, People’s Edition, at $1.50, and 
Library Edition, at $1.50. 


T. S. ARTHUR’S HOUSEHOLD NOVELS. 


The Lost Bride, 50 

The Two Brides, 50 

Love in a Cottage, 50 

Love in High Life, 50 

Year after Marriage, 50 

The Lady at Home, 50 

Cecelia Howard, 50 

Orphan Children, 50 

Debtor’s Daughter, 50 


The Divorced Wife, 50 

Mary Moreton, 50 

Pride and Prudence, 50 

Agnes ; or, the Possessed, 50 

Lucy Sandford, 60 

The Banker’s Wife, 60 

The Two Merchants, 50 


Trial .and Triumph,. 
The Iron Rule,. 


50 

50 


Insubordination; or, the Shoemaker’s Daughters, 50 

The Latimer Family ; or. The Bottle and the Pledge. Illustrated,.... 60 
Six Nights with the Washingtonians; and other Temperance Tales. 

By T. S. Arthur. With original Illustrations, by George Cruik- 
shank. One large octavo volume, bound in beveled boards, $3.50; 
red roan, full gilt back, $4.60; or full Turkey morocco, full gilt,... 6 00 
Lizzy Glenn ; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. Cloth $1.50 ; or paper, 1 00 


MRS. GREY’S CELEBRATED NOVELS. 

Cousin Harry, $1 00 | The Little Beauty, $1 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.50 each. 


A Marriage in High Life, 50 

Gipsy’s Daughter, 50 

Old Dower House, 50 

Belle of the Family, 60 

Duke and Cousin, 50 

The Little Wife, 50 

Lena Cameron, 50 

Sybil Leonard, 50 

Manoeuvring Mother 50 


00 


The Baronet’s Daughter.'*, 50 

Young Prima Donna, 50 

Hyacinthe, 25 

Alice Seymour, 25 

Mary Seaham, 75 

Passion and Principle, 75 

The Flirt, 75 

Good Society, 75 

Lion-Hearted, 75 


Above Books will he sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBIICATIONS. 23 


Jacob Faithful, 

Japhet in Search of a Father,.. 

Phantom Ship, 

Midshipman Easy, 

Pacha of Many Tales, 

Frank Mildmay, Naval Officer, 
Snarleyow, 50 


Newton Forster, 50 

King’s Own, 50 

Pirate and Three Cutters, 50 

Peter Simple, 50 

Percival Keene, 60 

Poor Jack, 50 

Sea King, 50 


CAPTAIN MARRYATT’S GREAT SEA TALES. 

50 
50 
50 
50 
50 
50 


REVOLUTIONARY STORIES. 


The Brigand, 50 

Ralph Runnion, 50 

Seven Brothers of Wyoming,.. 50 

The Rebel Bride, 50 

The Flying Artillerist, 50 

Wau-nan-gee, 50 


Old Putj or. Days of 1776, 60 

Legends of Mexico 50 

The Guerilla Chief, 75 

The Quaker Soldier, paper, 1 00 

do. do. cloth, 1 50 


J. F. SMITH’S BOOKS. 


The Usurer’s Victim; or, J Adelaide Waldegrave; or, the 
Thomas Balscombe, 75 I Trials of a Governess, 


75 


WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH’S NOVELS. 


Life of Jack Sheppard, 50 

Life of Guy Fawkes, 75 

Court of the Stuarts, 75 

Windsor Castle, 75 

The Star Chamber, 75 

Old St. Paul’s, 75 

Court of Queeu Anne, 50 


Life of Dick Turpin, 50 

Life of Davy Crockett, 50 

Life of Grace O’Malley, 50 

Desperadoes of the New W orld, 

full of illustrations 50 

Life of Honry Thomas, 25 

Life of Arthur Spring, 25 


The Tower of London, with 03 illustrations, paper cover, $1.50, cloth, 2 50 

The Miser’s Daughter, paper cover, $1.00, or in cloth, 1 50 

Lives of Jack Sheppard and Guy Fawkes, in one volume, cloth, 1 50 


GUSTAVE AIMARD’S FRONTIER STORIES. 


The Prairie Flower, 

The Tnriifl.n Scout, 

50 

Trapper’s Daughter, 

The Tiger Slayer, 

The Trail Hunter, 

75 

The Gold Seekers, 

The Indian Chief, 

75 

The Rebel Chief, 

The Red Track, 

75 

The Border Rifles, 

The White Scalper, 


Pirates of the Prairies, 

The Freebooters, 

50 





ELLEN PICKERING’S EXGUISITE NOVELS. 


Poor Cousin, 

Orphan Niece, 

Kate Wal.^ingham,. 
Ellen Wareham,.... 


50 

50 

50 

38 


The Grumbler, 

Marrying for Money, 
Who 'Shall bo Heir?.. 
The Squire, 


75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 


75 

75 

.‘58 

38 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Fa. 


24 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


FRANK FAIRLEGH’S CAPITAL BOOKS. 

Frank Fairlegh, 75 I Harry Racket Scapegrace, 75 

Lewis Arundel, 1 00 I Tom Racquet, 75 

Finer editions of the above are also issued in cloth, at $1.50 each. 

Harry Coverdale’s Courtship, 1 50 | Lorrimer Littlegood, 1 50 

The above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

The Colville Family. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” 60 

SEQUEL TO “ DICKENS’ MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD.” 

JOHN JASPER’S SECRET. Being the sequel to Charles Dickens* novel 
of “ The Mystery of Edioiii Drood.’* By Charles Dickens, Jr., and Wil- 
kie Collins. With eighteen full page illustrative engravings, on tinted 
paper, of the principal scenes and personages in the novel. No set of 
Dickens can be complete without a copy of “ John Jasper’s Secret” is in 
the set. Complete in one large duodecimo volume, bound in black 
morocco cloth, or in red vellum. Price $1.50. 


THE LAMPLIGHTER’S STORY. BY CHARLES DICKENS. 

This volume contains, besides “The Lamplighter’s Story,” his Prize 
Story of Hunted Down, with seven illustrations ; The Detective 
Police, ON Duty WITH Inspector Field j Down With The Tide; The 
Christmas Tree; A Child’s Dream of a Star, and several other Nov- 
cllettes. Handsomely bound in Morocco Cloth, Gold and Black, 12mo., 
price $1.50. 


LIVES OF NOTED “MEN OF THE ROAD.” 


Life of John A. Murrel, 50 

Life of Joseph T. Hare, 50 

Life of Col. Monroe Edwards, 50 

Life of Jack Sheppard, 50 

Life of Jack Rann, 50 

Life of Dick Turpin, 50 

Life of Helen Jewett, 50 

Desperadoes of the New World, 50 

Mysteries of New Orleans, 50 

The Robber’s Wife, 50 

Obi; or, Three Fingered Jack, 50 

Kit Clayton, 50 

Life of Tom Waters, 50 

Nat Blake, 50 

Bill Horton, 50 

Galloping Gus, 60 

Life & Trial of Antoine Probst, 50 

Ned Hastings, 50 

Diary of a Pawnbroker, 60 

Silver and Pewter, 60 

Sweeney Todd, 60 

Life of Sybil Grey, 50 


Life of Davy Crockett, 60 

Life of Jonathan Wild, 25 

Life of Henry Thomas, 25 

Life of Arthur Spring, 25 

Life of Jack Ketch, 25 

Lives of the Felons, 25 

Life of Mrs. Whipple, 25 

Life of Biddy Woodhull, 25 

Life of Mother Brownrigg, 25 

Dick Parker, the Pirate, 25 

Life of Mary Bateman, 25 

Life of Captain Blood, 25 

Capt. Blood and the Beagles,.. 25 

Sixteen-Stringed Jack’s Fight 

for Life, 25 

Highwayman’s Avenger, 25 

Life of Raoul De Surville, 25 

Life of Rody the Rover, 25 

Life of Galloping Dick, 25 

Life of Guy Fawkes, 75 

Memoirs of Vidocq, the French 75 

Detective, illustrated 75 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETEKSON & BROTHEES’ PUBIICATIOES. 25 


GEORGE LIPPARD’S WEIRD STORIES. ' 


The Quaker City, $1 50 

Paul Ardenheim, 1 50 

Blanche of Brandywine, 1 50 

The Legends of the American 
Revolution ; or, Washington 

and his Generals, 1 50 

Mysteries of Florence, 1 00 


Above in cloth at $2.00 each. 


The Empire City, 

Memoirs of a Preacher,.... 

The Nazarene, 

Washington and his Men,, 

Legends of Mexico, 

The Entranced, 

The Robbers, 

The Bank Director’s Son, , 


MRS, C. J. KEWBY’S GRAPHIC HOVELS. 


Sunshine and Shadow, 


Trodden Down,. 

Kate Kennedy, 

50 

Ma.rriftd, 

Wondrous Strange, 

... 50 

Common Sense,., 

Margaret Hamilton, 


Only Temper,... 

Right and Left, 



LIST OF BEST SEA 


Adventures of Ben Brace, 75 

Jack Adams, the Mutineer, 76 

Jack Ariel's Adventure."*, 75 

Petrel; or. Life on the Ocean,. 75 

Life of Paul Periwinkle, 75 

Life of Tom Bowling, 75 

Percy Kffingham, 76 

Red King, 60 

The Corsair, 60 

The Doomed Ship, 50 

The Three Pirates, 50 

The Flying Dutchman, 50 

The Flying Yankee, 50 

The Yankee Middy, 60 

The Gold Seekers, 60 

The King's Cruisers, 50 

Life of Alexander Tardy, 50 

Ked Wing, 50 

Yankee Jack, 50 

Yankees in Japan, 50 

Morgan, the Buccaneer, 60 

Jack Junk, 50 

Davis, the Pirate, 50 

Valdez, the Pirate, 50 

Harry Tempest,... 50 


TALES PUBLISHED. 

Gallant Tom, 

Harry Helm, 

Rebel and Rover, 

Man-of-War's-Man, 

Dark Shades of City Life, 

The Rats of the Seine, 

Charles Ransford, 

The Iron Cross, 

The River Pirates, 

The Pirate’s Son, 

Jacob Faithful, 

Phantom Ship, 

Midshipman Easy, 

Pacha of Many Tales, 

Naval OflScer, 

Snarleyow, 

Newton Forster, 

King's Own, 

Japhet, 

Pirate and Three Cutters, 

Peter Simple, 

Percival Keene, 

Poor Jack, 

Sea King, 


SIR E. L. BTJLWER’S NOVELS. 

The Roue, 50 1 The Courtier, 

The Oxonians, 50 I Falkland, 


75 

75 

75 

75 

50 

25 

25 

25 


50 

60 

60 

50 


60 

60 

50 

50 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

60 

50 

60 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 


25 

25 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


26 T. B. PETEKSOH & BEOTHEK8’ PtJBlICATIOES. 


15 CENT EDITION OF THE WAVEELEY NOVELS. 


COMPLETE IN 
15 GENTS EACH) OB 


Ivaahoe, 15 

The Bride of Lammermoor,.... 15 

Guy Mannering, 15 

Waverley, 15 

Rob Roy, 15 

The Antiquary, 15 

Old Mortality, 15 

The Heart of Mid Lothian, 15 

St. Ronan’s Well, 15 

Kenilworth, 15 

The Pirate, 15 

The Monastery, 15 

The Abbot, 15 

The Fortunes of Nigel, 15 

Above edition is the cheapest in th 
volumes, price 15 cents each, or Thr< 

Life of Napoleon, cloth, 2 50 

Moredun. A Tale of 1210, 50 

Tales of a Grandfather, 25 


VOLUMES. PRICE 
t.OO FOR A FULL SET. 

The Betrothed, 15 

The Peveril of the Peak, 15 

Quentin Durward, 15 

The Red Gauntlet, 15 

The Talisman, 15 

Woodstock, 15 

Highland Widow, etc., 15 

The Fair Maid of Perth, 15 

Anne of Geierstein, 15 

Count Robert of Paris, 15 

The Black Dwarf and Legend 

of Montrose, 15 

Castle Dangerous, and Sur- 
geon's Daughter, 15 

world, and is complete in twenty-six 
9 Dollars pays for the complete set. 

History of Scotland, cloth, 2 50 

Scott’s Poetical Works, cloth,.. 2 50 
Life of Scott, cloth, 2 50 


“NEW NATIONAL EDITION” OF WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

This edition of the Waverley Novels is contained in jive large octavo vol- 
nmee, with a portrait of Sir Walter Scott, making four ihoutand very large 
double columned pages, in good type, and handsomely printed on the finest 
of white paper, and bound in the strongest and most substantial manner. 


Price of a set, in Black cloth, in five volumes, $15 00 

** Full sheep. Library style, 17 50 

** “ Half calf, antique, or Half calf, gilt, 25 00 


BOOKS AT 25 CENTS. BY BEST AUTHORS. 


Aunt Margaret’s Trouble, 25 

The Woman in Grey, 25 

The Deformed, 25 

The Two Prima Donnas, 25 

The Mysterious Marriage, 25 

Jack Downing’s Letters, 25 

The Mysteries of a Convent,... 25 

The Mysteries of Bedlam, 25 

Rose Warrington, 25 

The Iron Cross, 25 

Rody the Rover, 25 


Charle.«! Ransford, 25 

The Nobleman’s Daughter,... 25 

Ghost Stories. Illustrated,.... 25 

Ladies’ Science of Etiquette,... 25 

The Abbey of Innismoyle, 25 

Gliddon’s Ancient Egypt 25 

Philip in Search of a Wife, 25 

Raoul De Surville. By Sue,... 25 

The Sower's Reward, 25 

The Courtier. By Bulwer, 25 

Rifle Shots. Very funny, 25 


Madison’s Exposition of Odd Fellowship. Illustrated, 25 

The Iniquities and Barbarities Practiced at Rome in the 19th Century, 25 
Comic Life of Billy Vidkins, with 32 Illustrations, very funny, 25 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 27 


LANGUAGES WITHOUT A MASTER. 

German without a Master. In Six Ea.«y Lessons, by A. H. Monteith, 40 

French without a Ma-^tcr, * 40 I Italian without a Master, 40 

Spanish without a Master, 40 1 Latin without a Master, 40 

The above five works on the French, German, Spanish, Latin, and Italian 
Languages, whereby any one or all of these Languages can be learned by 
any one without a Teacher, with the aid of tliis book, by A. H. Monteith, 
is also published in finer style, in one volume, bound, price $2.0C. 


BOOKS AT 75 CENTS. BY BEST AUTHORS. 

Corinne ; or, Italy. A Love Story. By Madame Stael, cloth, $1.00 ; paper. 

The Brigand; or, the Demon of the North. By Victor Hugo,. 

Cyrilla; or. The Mysterious Engagement. By the author of “ The 

Initials.” Cloth, $1.00; or bound in paper cover, for 

Webster and Ilayne's Speeches in Reply to Colonel Foote, 

Roanoke; or. Where is Utopia? By C. H. Wiley. Illustrated,. 

Flirtations in America 

The Red Court Farm, 

Marrying for Money, 

Dickens’s Holiday Stories, 

The Coquette, 

Thackeray’s Irish Sketch Book, 

Whitehall, 

The Beautiful Nun, 

Mysteries of Three Cities, 

Genevra. By Miss Fairfield,.. 
Crock of Gold. By Tapper,... 
Twins and Heart. By Tupper, 

New Hope; or, the Rescue, 

Nothing to Say,. 


Consuelo. By George Sand,... 75 

Countess of Rudolstadt, 75 

The Woman of Honor, 75 

The Banditti of the Prairie,... 75 

Tom Racquet, 75 

Salathiel, by Croly, 75 

Red Indians of Newfoundland, 75 
Ned Musgrave 75 


Aristocracy, 75 

Popping the Question, 75 

Paul Periwinkle,.... 75 

The Inquisition in Spain, 75 

Elsie’s Married Life, 75 

Leyton Hall. By Mark Lemon, 76 


Hans Breitmann's Party. With other Ballads. By Charles G. Leland, 
Hans Breitmann In Church, with other Ballads. By C. G. Leland, 
Hans Breitmann about Town, with other Ballads. By C. G. Leland, 
Hans Breitmann as an Uhlan, and other New Ballads. By Leland,.. 
Hans Breitmann In Europe, with other New Ballads. By Leland,... 


USEFUL BOOKS FOR ALL. 

Lady's and Gentleman’s Science of Etiquette. By Count D’Orsay 

and Countess de Calabrella, with their portraits, 

Lardner’s One Thousand and Ten Things Worth Knowing,.. 

Knowlson’s Complete Farrier and Horse Doctor, 

Knowlsou’s Complete Cow and Cattle Doctor, 

The Complete Kitchen and Fruit Gardener, 

The Complete Florist and Flower Gardener,... 


75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 


50 

50 

25 

25 

25 

25 


CURVED-POINT STEEL PENS. 

Magnum Bonum Pen, Price per dozen, 75 cents, per gross $8r 00 

These pens are recommended to all, being preferred to the old-fashioned 
quill pen, for easy writing. We advise all to try them. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Eetail Price* 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


28 T. B. PETEBSON & BBOTHEBS’ PTJBIICATIONS. 


50 CENT NOVELS, BY BEST AUTHOBS. 

Lovo at First Sight, 50! Kate Kennedy,. 


Leah ; or the Forsaken, 50 i The Admiral’s Daughter, 

The Greatest Plague of Life,... 60 

Clifford and the Actress, 50 

50 
50 


The Two Lovers,. 

The Orphans and Caleb Field,. 

The Woman in Red, 50 


The Diary of a Pawnbroker, 


50 


iMoreton Hall, 50 

Female Life in New York, 50 

Agnes Grey, 50 

Diary of a Physician, 


The Emigrant Squire, 50 


The Beautiful French Girl, 


50 


The American Joe Miller, 

Ella Stratford, 

Josephine, by Grace Aguilar,.. 

The Fortune Hunter, 

The Orphan Sisters, 

Abednego, the Money Lender,. 
Miriam Alroy, by DTsraeli,.... 

.Jenny Ambrose, 

Bell Brandon, 

Sybil Grey, 

Train’s Union Speeches, 

Victims of Amusements, 

Ladies’ Work Table Book, 


Father Clement, paper 50 

do. do. cloth 75 Life of Antoine Probst, 

The Miser’s Heir, paper, 50 Alieford, a Family History,.... 

do. do. cloth, 75: General Scott’s $5 Portrait, 

Life of Jack Sheppard 50, Henry Clay’s $5 Portrait, 

Life of Grace O’Malley, 60! Portrait of Schuyler Colfax,... 

Twelve Months of Matrimony. By Emelie F. Carlen, 

Robert Oaklands ; or, the Outca.«t Orphan, 

Father Tom and the Pope. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.00, or paper, 


50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

00 

00 

50 

50 

50 

50 


GOOD BOOKS FOR EVERYBODY. 

Peterson’s Complete Coin Book, containing fac-si miles of Coins 
of the World, with the U. S. Mint value of each coin, and with an 
Index of the Coins of each and every nation ; by which any person 
can at once turn to the right page and find the fac-simile impres- 
sion of any coin in the world that is wanted to be found by them 


for immediate examination $1 00 

Life of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, paper $1.00; or in cloth,.... 1 50 
Whitefriars; or, the Days of Charles the Second, paper 75 cents, cloth,. 1 00 
Prof. Julien’s Farewell Musical Album for the million, full of music,. I 00 

Southern Life; or. Inside Views of Slavery, I 00 

The Rich Men of Philadelphia. Income Tax List of Residents, 1 00 


MILITARY AND ARMY BOOKS. 


Ellsworth’s Zouave Drill, 

U. S. Government Infantry & 
Rifle Tactics, 


25 U. S. Light Infantry Drill, 
The Soldier’s Companion,.. 
25 The Soldier’s Guide, 


25 

25 

25 


DB. HOLIICK’S WOBKS. 

Dr. Hollick’s great work on the Anatomy and Physiology of the 
Human Figure, with colored dissected plates of the Human Figure,$2 00 
Dr. Hollick’s Family Physician, a Pocket Guide for Everybody, 25 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


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